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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap..^.., Copyr^ht No. 

Shelf„_.^.g.^5 M(S 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 











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appletons’ 
XTown anJ) Country 
OLibrary 

No. 229 


MISS PROVIDENCE 


Novels by Dorothea Gerard. 

Each, i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 


A Spotless Reputation. 

This is a novel of importance and special interest by an 
always popular writer. Her books are invariably readable 
and entertaining. 

The Wrong Man. 

“ Far in advance of all her other works, a powerful interpretation 
of life." — Chicago Times-Herald. 

An Arranged Marriage. 

“A story skillfully and artistically told, refined, and holding the 
attention of the reader from beginning to end with intense interest.’’ — 
Hartford Times. 

Lot 13. 

** A varied and complicated plot, a flavor of old-fashioned romance, 
vivacious descriptions of picturesque scenes, and a company of inter- 
esting people go to make up the attractive features of ‘ Lot 13.’ . . . 
Extremely well written.’’ — Boston Beacon. 

Orthodox. 

“Its drama ic interest reaches a really magnificent climax.’’ — 
London ^ceuiemy. 

A Queen of Curds and Cream. 

“The author has written nothing better, and one may well doubt 
if she has ever produced anything quite as — Boston Beacon. 

Etelka’s Vow. 

“The tale is well wrought out) and the interest is well sustained to 
the last.*’ — Boston Advertiser. 

The Rich Miss Riddell. 

“A love story at once clean, interesting, and wholesome.’’ — The 
Chitrchman. 

A Sensitive Plant. 

By E. and D. Gerard, joint authors of “ Reata,” “ The 
Waters of Hercules,” etc. 

“ An agreeable and amusing love story.’’ — Cincinnati Times-Star. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



MISS PROVIDENCE 


A NOVEL 


BY 

DOROTHEA GERARD 

AUTHOR OF 

AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE, THE RICH MISS RIDDELL, 
A QUEEN OF CURDS AND CREAM, 

etelka’s vow, etc. 





D. 


NOV 8 1897 

of ^ 

TWO^SfSs^CEIVED 

NEW YORK 5-15^ 
APPLETON AND COMPANY 
1897 






v?v 






Copyright, 1897, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 



CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — A CHILD OF LUCK 1 

II. — Retrospection 12 

III. — CORRY 19 

IV. — “ For a beginning ” 27 

V. — Stonefield 40 

VI. — The green ribbon 56 

VII. — The trtst 68 

VIII. — In the Long Walk 77 

IX. — The School feast 87 

X. — In the Long Walk again 102 

XL — Family history 115 

XI 1. — Lady Hepburne . . .... 124 

XIII. — The Tiger-Lily 137 

XIV. — “Ye banks and braes” 144 

XV. — The hill fool 154 

XVI. — A ministering angel 162 

XVII. — Home again 180 

XVIII. — The Tower Room 193 

XIX. — The two Flos 203 

XX. — At the toy haven 213 

XXI. — The Carters 222 

XXII.— Mr. Wax 235 

XXITI. — Gentille Bergere 249 

XXIV. — An unwelcome letter 264 

XXV. — A morning call 276 

XXVI. — An exit 283 


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MISS PROVIDENCE. 


CHAPTER I. 

A CniLD OF LUCK. 

Well, Miss Providence, and whose affairs have 
you been setting right to-day, if I may ask? Pound 
any willing subjects, eh? Or do they still refuse to 
be made happy? 

There were only four people seated at the dinner- 
table, and only one woman among the four. The 
woman was Florence Crossley, the elder man present 
was her father, the younger one her fiance of exactly 
a week’s standing, while the one that came in the 
middle was of no consequence whatever, being only 
Mr. Hughes, the vicar, whom Mr. Crossley had asked 
in order to have somebody to talk to, in case Sir Louis 
Hepburne should have anything to say to Flo which 
would be better said en tete-a-tete. This clerical goose- 
berry was more than half bald, stoutish, and so full ; 
to overflowing of Christian charity that he might be’ 
said to drip with it — the sort of man who says to every 
person he meets, How are you? ” with an intensity 
of expression and accent which seems to imply that 
the question has been weighing on his mind for 
1 


2 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


months, and then heaves a deep-felt sigh of relief on 
being informed that you are in your usual health. 

The other three members of the partie carree were 
each ill their way striking figures, Mr. Crossley, the 
host, being perhaps the most striking of all, by virtue 
of his beautiful white head — a head of which the 
whole county was proud, as of some Art treasure 
which was common property. And, truly, the deli- 
cate, close-cropped curls — which had indeed grown 
thinner with age, but not less curly — as well as the 
richly flowing beard, were of so fine a texture that 
they gave the impression of being some wonderful 
piece of filigree work, wrought in the purest and 
most costly silver. A still upright and graceful 
figure, a suave address, and the bearing of a courtier 
rather than of a country squire, were the only things 
that could have carried out the idea of that head, and 
all these things Mr. Crossley possessed. 

His future son-in-law was a different sort of man 
altogether, a grand-looking, rather than a good-look- 
ing, young fellow, with somewhat large features and 
magnificent limbs. The first impression he gave was 
one of squareness and straightness — square in the 
shoulders, square in the forehead, a little too square 
in the chin, remarkably straight in the back, as well 
as in the dense eyebrows. It was eminently a calm 
face, but with something in the deep cut of the nos- 
tril which suggested the possibility of passion, and 
with a pair of steady brown eyes which took no 
side-glances, but either looked full and rather too 
hard at the thing within their ken, or else did not 
look at all. 

There is only Florence left to talk about, but there 


A CHILD OF LUCK. 


3 


is more to say about her than about the others, seeing 
that the reader will expect to hear not only all about 
her complexion and her hair, but also about her dress 
— in the other three cases fortunately a superfluous 
detail. Even in this case the subject is circumscribed, 
seeing that it was a family dinner-party, and that 
therefore a black lace dress, with only a diamond orna- 
ment in her dark-brown hair, and the very first rose 
of the season at her breast, had been considered most 
appropriate, particularly as she happened to know 
that Louis liked her best in black. Some people 
called her beautiful; others, again, said that her mouth 
was too large, and her nose not straight enough; pos- 
sibly they were right, but those critics were generally 
the mothers of plain daughters, and even they could 
not deny that her figure was perfect, and that the 
clear, warm colour in her cheek was not to be matched 
within the county. 

Her father’s address had made the colour a little 
warmer than usual, for it was not quite after her 
taste. Whenever he began by calling her Miss 
Providence,” she knew the sort of thing to expect. 
Tenderly as she loved him, there was no denying the 
fact that he did not take her quite seriously enough — 
not nearly so seriously as she took herself. 

It is Tom Leake’s affairs I have been setting 
right to-day,” she replied, distinctly and a trifle de- 
fiantly. 

Trying to, you mean,” threw in Sir Louis, sotlo 

voce. 

Florence raised her eyes from her plate, and gave 
him a look which said quite plainly, Are you^ too, go- 
ing to join the mockers? ” 


4 : 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


It was met by a glance wliicli was not in the least 
mocking, but which caused the colour in her cheek to 
rise by another shade. When Florence looked up sud- 
denly, as she had an unconscious trick of doing, she al- 
ways caused a certain sensation of surprise — not so 
much because her eyes were so beautiful and so ear- 
nest, but because, instead of being dark, as one some- 
how expected them to be, they were a rather light 
grey, though thickly fringed with black. Even peo- 
ple who had known her from childhood were subject to 
this feeling of surprise. Sir Louis could only recall 
two instances of dark-haired women with exactly this 
shade of grey eyes. One, indeed, had not been a 
woman, but a little girl, the sister of a school-fellow 
at Harrow; the other, a peasant woman whom, while 
travelling on the Continent, he had passed on the road, 
trudging wearily along with a burden on her back, 
and with downcast black lashes. She, also, had raised 
her eyes unexpectedly as he passed, and also had sur- 
prised him by the clearness of her grey eyes. He had 
never seen her before or since, just as he had never 
again met his school-fellow’s sister, but the feeling of 
pleasurable surprise had remained with him as an 
agreeable recollection. In some way which he could 
not explain, this unusual combination of tints hap- 
pened to satisfy something within him; and from the 
moment that he had found these same eyes in Florence 
Crossley, he had never doubted that here lay his fate. 

And what has Tom Leake been doing? ” asked 
^fr. Crossley, looking at his daughter with almost as 
admiring a gaze as Sir Louis, but with the suspicion 
of a smile at the corners of his mouth. 

It is what he is not doing that is wrong. For 


A CHILD OF LUCK. 


5 


six weeks past I have been trying to persuade him to 
adopt those two nephews of his, whose stepmother is 
so unkind to them. It’s clearly his duty.” 

But surely Leake has five or six children of his 
own ? ” asked her father, still with that half-teasing, 
half-tender smile of his. 

Six. But that can’t alter his duty. He is much 
better off than his brother was, and it can’t be fair 
that the children of one brother should starve while 
those of the other live in plenty.” 

Considering that one brother was a drunkard 

and the other a first-rate workman ” began Mr. 

Crossley. 

That has nothing to do with the children. Why 
should they suffer for their parents’ sins? I know I 
shall get Tom to listen to me, just as I know that I 
shall get Lizzie Bond to accept Bill Tester, who has 
made her two offers of marriage. Ifothing could be 
more perfect, for she is quite comfortably off, while he 
hasn’t got a penny.” 

Bather an unusual reason for accepting a man, 
surely,” remarked Sir Louis. Perhaps Lizzie is 
looking out for somebody as comfortably off as her- 
self.” 

I hope not! This would be so much nicer; such 
a much fairer division of things; and I feel sure they 
are made for each other.” 

Then why not leave them to fight it out un- 
assisted? ” 

She wouldn’t be Miss Providence if she did 
that,” laughed Mr. Crossley, softly. 

Florence gave an impatient sigh. I wish you 
weren’t so matter-of-fact, Louis! When people won’t 


6 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


see what is best for them^ there is nothing for it but 
to show them. I have asked Mr. Hughes to help me 
in persuading Lizzie, but he won’t.’’ 

The vicar smiled deprecatingly. I should be 
charmed to see Lizzie happily settled, but I fear I 
don’t possess the requisite qualities for a match- 
maker. The fact is, I — I shrink from the responsi- 
bility.” 

I am quite willing to take that upon myself,” 
said Florence, with a slightly scornful uplifting of her 
red lip. All I ask is that you should not work 
against me.” 

The idea of the vicar working against anybody was 
so irresistible, that everybody at the table, including 
the vicar himself, began to laugh. 

It was about ten minutes after Florence had left 
the room that Mr. Crossley observed innocently to 
Sir Louis, Louis, my boy, it strikes me that this is 
rather hard upon Flo. You seem to have done with 
your wine, so I dare say you won’t mind stepping over 
and keeping her company while Mr. Hughes and I 
get to the end of this decanter.” 

High time to put him out of pain,” observed 
the host as Louis closed the door behind him. Xo 
time to say good-bye to-morrow morning, you know; 
off by the six a. m. This has been a farewell feast, 
you know.” 

It is the first separation, is it not?” asked the 
vicar, with a sympathy so deep-felt that it positively 
brought a little moisture to his eyes. 

The first; and it’s to last a whole week — an 
awful stretch of time, I can tell you, when one’s en- 
gagement is exactly another week old.” 


A CHILD OF LUCK. 


7 


And he brings his poor dear mother back with 
him?’^ 

Yes. He means to turn that old robber-nest 
into a home; and with his money and his energy, it 
is just possible that he may succeed.’’ 

It is a perfect match,” murmured the vicar, 
heaving a sigh of tremulous satisfaction. 

Meanwhile Sir Louis had, without difficulty, 
found his way to the drawing-room. Here there 
was as yet no light, except that given on the one 
hand by the glow of a fire in the grate, and on the 
other by the stars looking in through the French 
window, which stood open to the terrace — winter and 
summer touching hands for a moment as they cross 
on their way. 

On the terrace, whither Sir Louis’s instinct led 
him, Florence, with a light wrap about her shoulders, • 
was sauntering about and doing her best to persuade 
herself that the night was not chilly. There was 
nothing said immediately on either side. Silently Sir 
Louis joined her, drawing her hand softly within his 
arm, and silently the walk was continued for several 
minutes more, during which the chill of this English 
May night ceased to exist for at least two people, dis- 
pelled by that subtle warmth in the blood which most 
of us have felt at least once in a lifetime. 

At last, with a deep, tremulously happy sigh, 
Florence stood still and laid her arms upon the stone 
balustrade. 

And it must really be to-morrow? ” she asked a 
little dreamily. 

It really must. I cannot keep my poor mother 
waiting any longer, and I cannot let her travel with- 


8 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


out me. I long to see her face, Flo. She has waited 
for this for so long! This going away is awful, but, 
darling, you inustiiT persuade me out of it; it has to 
be done.’’ 

I know it has to be done,” said Florence, look- 
ing straight in front of her towards where the thickly 
wooded park showed in dark blotches against the trans- 
parent sky; and I don’t want to persuade you out 
of it. In fact, it is almost better if you go away for 
a little.” 

Had a little more of me lately than you can 
quite stand?” suggestetd Sir Louis, with a good- 
humoured laugh. 

She turned her head and gave him one of her 
swift glances — a glance of almost too grave a reproof 
for the occasion. 

You know I don’t mean that,” she said in a low 
tone, looking again towards the tree-masses. 

Then, Flo, I wish you would tell me what you 
do mean,” said Sir Louis, more gravely. You have 
struck me lately as being disturbed. There isn’t any- 
thing wrong, is there? ” 

FTo there is nothing wrong.” 

And you are quite certain that you are hap- 

py? ” 

She was silent for a second, then, turning quickly 
towards him, laid her hand upon his sleeve. 

Oh, Louis, don’t you understand? That is just 
it; it is exactly my happiness that frightens me — it 
is too great.” 

You mean that you think it’s bound to come 
to an end? AYell, the Greeks had a recipe for dis- 
arming the envy of tlie gods, you know. If you 


A CHILD OF LUCK. 


9 


feel as uneasy as all that, why not follow old what’s- 
his-name^s example, and chuck a ring into the duck- 
pond? ’’ 

Florence shook her head. No, no, that is not 
what I mean. Of course it will last, I know it will; 
all the good things always last with me; I have never 
had a wish crossed since I was born; my paper boats 
always floated, and my dolls never lost their eyes. 
Tliey say I am a child of luck. It isn’t that I am 
afraid of.” 

Of what, then? ” asked Sir Louis, wonderingly. 

I hardly know myself, but I am quite sure it 
canH be intended that human beings should be as 
happy as we are a la longue 

Sir Louis was frivolous enough to laugh. 

I don’t know about that, but I’m at least equally 
sure that it can’t be intended that human beings 
should worry because things happen to be going 
straight for a bit.” 

If it was only for a bit, that would be nothing; 
but with me they have been going right all my life. 
Have I not got everything, positively everything, that 
anybody need have: health, money, position, my dear 
old dad, and now you to make all perfect? Really it 
seems too much for one person.” 

We are two people,” interpolated Sir Louis, 
without being' heeded. 

I assure you, Louis, I have moments when it 
seems to me that it can’t be right to be so outrageously 
fortunate as I am; it does seem so horribly selflsh 
when there is so much misery, so much unhappiness 
all around.” 

Isn’t it a trifle early to begin talking of your 


10 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


outrageous good fortune? You’re eighteen, aren’t 
you?” 

“ Yo, it isn’t early, because I know it will stick 
to me to the end; it seems to be my fate.” 

Poor girl!” said Sir Louis, still in that light 
tone. It comes to this, then: she is unhappy at 
being so happy.” 

'^Are you laughing at me, Louis?” she asked, 
with rising colour. 

^^1^0, Florence, I am not.” He had become seri- 
ous in one moment. '' My noble, foolish girl, I love 
you all the more for this child’s talk; you could not 
have these thoughts if your heart Avere not bursting 
with real goodness, but child’s talk it remains all the 
same. Grown-up men and women know better than 
to complain of their luck; they take it thankfully 
Avhere they can get it, and miss it sorely Avhen it leaves 
them, but they do not play pitch and toss Avith it, as 
you seem almost inclined to do. You did not choose 
your fate for yourself, it Avas chosen for you, and my 
belief is that we’re all of us bound to take the good 
and the evil together, exactly as it comes, and make 
the best of it.” 

He spoke earnestly, his hand laid upon hers; and 
Florence, AAuth her elboAV upon the balustrade and her 
chin upon her hand, gazed up abstractedly into his 
face, listening more to the voice than* to the words, 
and attempting to folloAV his expression in the half- 
light. And as she looked and listened, and felt his 
fingers upon hers, she kneAV Avithin her heart that 
Avhether she Avanted to or not she Avould have to love 
this man to the very death. 

Kiss me quickly, Louis!” 


Avas all the ansAver 


A CHILD OF LUCK. 


11 


he got when he paused. “ I believe papa is com- 
ing.^^ 

Sir Louis barely saved his distance before Mr. 
Crossley appeared shivering in the doorway. 

Nothing but that thin rag, Flo? ’’ he exclaimed 
in horror-stricken accents. And such a night as 
this! Upon my word, Louis, if that’s the way you’re 
going to look after your wife ” 

“ But what sort of a night is it? ” asked Sir Louis 
in perfect good faith. It seemed to me quite pleas- 
ant. Were you cold, Flo? ” 

Not in the least! ” said Flo, exhibiting, as she 
stepped within the circle of the lamplight, a pair of 
cheeks that completely bore out the truthfulness of 
her reply. 

And yet Browne has just told me that he is cov- 
ering up all the early vegetables,” remarked Mr. 
Crossley, glancing from one young face to the other. 
But,” he added with a whimsically wistful smile, 
I dare say there is something wrong with the ther- 
mometer.” 

Perhaps he was thinking of certain evenings spent 
upon this very same terrace, and of the little regard 
he had paid to the thermometer then. But at that 
time, to be sure, his hair had not been white. 


2 


CHAPTER II. 


RETROSPECTION. 

When Florence complained of never having had 
a wish crossed, she spoke almost the literal truth. If 
she had ever been refused anything, it had been, at 
the most, certain sweetmeats in the nursery, and by 
the orders of the doctor, and even this had not been 
nearly so often as desirable. The only child of a 
wealthy and devoted father, who cherished her as all 
that remained to him of a blissful but frightfully 
brief married life, she had been able from infancy 
to impose her will on the household. Hers had been 
an unclouded though somewhat solitary childhood; 
for Mr. Crossley, who never quite recovered from his 
premature bereavement, shrank from the society of 
all but a few intimates, with all the soreness of a sen- 
sitive nature that has been wounded to the core. With- 
out being either embittered or soured, he had become 
like a man who cannot bear the full light. For this 
reason the trees in the park were allowed to make so 
thick a screen against the outer world; and for this 
reason, too, he spent most of his time in his library, 
pursuing a desultory course of study upon every sub- 
ject in general and none in particular, which, although 
leading to no tangible result, gently soothed his 
12 


RETROSPECTION. 


13 


wounded mind, while earning for him the not fully 
deserved reputation of a philosopher. In time his 
books became to him nearly as dear as his daughter, 
whose youthful presence was not always convenient 
in the library, where from morning to night he sat 
nursing his grief with a persistency which might be 
called either selfish or sublime, according to the on- 
looker’s point of view. Under these circumstances, it 
was but natural that the care of the child’s education 
should be resigned to others. 

Florence had passed through the hands of many 
nurses and governesses, but only one among them 
had left a mark on her life. This had been a gaunt 
giantess, with that peculiar shade of dirty-white hair 
which betrays that it has once been yellow, with lines 
of care about her hard-set mouth, and an unquench- 
able fire in her sunken, fiercely blue eyes. Constant 
buffetings of fate had made of this woman a rebel 
against the order of the world. It is doubtful whether 
Mrs. Gillett had ever heard of socialism, and certain 
that she had never studied it; yet out of her own 
inner consciousness had she evolved a queer, crooked 
theory of her own — a sort of caricature of the original 
article, inspired by her personal misfortunes, and more 
than half coloured with a fierce religious fanaticism. 
There was only a given quantity of luck in the world 
— not in the shape of hard cash only, but in every 
other shape as well, which, were it but equally divided, 
would be enough for everybody. She was one of 
those who had come too short, and ever since she had 
reached this consciousness had she been filled with 
bitterness at the injustice of her lot, and envious hatred 
of the more fortunate. The child in her charge prom- 


14 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


ised to be one of these fortiinates, therefore she hated 
even her in the abstract; while, viewing her as an 
individual, this strangely contradictious old woman 
was unable to keep her heart from yearning over the 
motherless bairn. These two elements were for ever 
fighting for the upper hand. One of her great de- 
lights was to see the child weep. When on winter 
evenings they sat before the roaring nursery fire, the 
small, curly headed figure crouched at the feet of 
the large, bony frame, it was not with fairy-tales that 
the time was beguiled, but with merciless, cruelly sad 
stories of unhappy people pursued by a relentless fate, 
of wives bereaved of their husbands, of mothers weep- 
ing on their children’s graves, of honest workers 
robbed of their hardly earned savings by villains who 
get off scot-free; and over the edge of the linen she 
was mending, the blue, hawklike eyes would greedily 
watch the happy child’s face first grow clouded and 
then convulsed, and when the inevitable burst of 
tears came she would feel that it was something 
to have darkened so bright a life for at least one mo- 
ment, and, flinging the linen aside, she would pull 
the child upon her knee, press her passionately to 
her bony breast, and not leave off until she had ca- 
ressed her back into a gayer mood. A little of her 
standing grudge against Fate had been paid off in 
that moment, therefore she could afford to be tender 
again. 

Sometimes the small Flo would ask to whom it 
was that this or that dreadful thing had happened, 
and the answer she got was always the same : It hap- 
pened to me! ” In time she ceased to ask, having got 
used to the belief that every bad thing which could 


RETROSPECTION. 


15 


happen in the world had inevitably happened to her 
nurse. But she put other questions. 

Whose fault is it that the poor people are un- 
happy? she once asked. 

The rich people’s fault.” 

But papa is rich,” objected Flo; and I’m sure 
he has never made anybody unhappy.” 

Mrs. Gillett gave her own bitter cackle. 

He may not have meant to do so, but he can’t 
help himself. Every rich man or woman is the mis- 
fortune of a poor one; for it’s to the rich of the world 
that the luck flies. You, too, will have to be the mis- 
fortune of some one or other — be sute of that! Your 
share of luck is too big for one person alone; others 
will have to suffer for it.” 

How can I be the misfortune of some one else? ” 
asked Flo, perplexed. 

don’t know how; there are many different 
ways. Perhaps you will get a fortune which some 
other person expects, or perhaps the man you love will 
be loved by another woman, whose heart will break 
when he marries you. Anyway, it is sure to be.” 

Between the bars of the high safety fender the 
child gazed with thoughtful eyes into the glowing 
coals, and turned it all over in her small mind. It 
was all extremely perplexing, and possibly not quite 
logical, but it had a strange fascination of its own. 

But rich people can be unhappy also,” she ob- 
served at last. They also get ill and die. Even my 
mamma died.” 

Those are the ones that have to pay for their luck 
in this world instead of in the next. Your papa has 
paid for his luck,” added the old woman in a more 


16 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


relenting tone of voice. Her master’s cruel loss made 
him appear to her less of a natural enemy than the 
generality of prosperous people. But woe to those 
who go from here with their account unsettled! ” 

Flo’s feelings were a mixture of fearful awe and 
of passionate pity for the lot of the woman whose out- 
bursts of half savage affection were almost as terrify- 
ing as her bitter words. By degrees the wild ideas 
dropped from those withered lips began to take root 
in what happened to be a singularly congenial soil. 
In the long hours for thought afforded by the lonely 
nursery, these roots struck so deep that even after Mrs. 
Gillett had left the house their hold did not loosen. 
She left her influence behind her, as do most people 
of strong personality. 

And thus Florence had grown up, with thoughts 
that do not come to the majority of girls, and which, 
with her romantic temperament and somewhat head- 
strong nature, might possibly lead to strange results. 
There was no getting rid of the idea that she had got 
more than her just share of the good things of this 
world, and apparently no remedy but to try and make 
other people as happy as she was. It was this thought 
that had made her into the village matchmaker, the 
settler of quarrels, the Dame Bountiful whose gifts 
were strewn broadcast with well-meaning, but not al- 
ways judicious, liberality; yet remaining conscious 
all the time that it was not a question of money alone, 
but also of more subtle elements of happiness, which 
were for ever escaping her control. A certain vague 
hankering after personal sacrifices of some sort — a 
remnant of the idea inculcated before the nursery 
fire, that it is better to pay for one’s luck in this world 


RETROSPECTION. 


17 


than in the next — ran through it all like a perpetual 
undercurrent, not clearly recognised, but always 
present. 

To her father she avoided speaking directly of 
these thoughts. Dearly though she loved him, she 
instinctively knew that in answer to an unrolling of 
her private theories of life he would only smile benevo- 
lently, with that tinge of amiable cynicism which was 
peculiar to him. Even without explanations, he had 
guessed enough to smile at what he clearly recognized 
as follies, yet which he felt no call to correct. He 
liked his Flo far too well as she was to want her al- 
tered; the occasional confessions of faith that escaped 
her, tickled his fancy far too much to be readily 
missed. Of course it was just conceivable that harm 
might come of this idealism run wild, but the stricken 
widower lived too much in the past ever to take a 
keen interest in the future. Most young people worth 
their salt suffered from the desire to set the world 
right; his child was passing through this stage, that 
was all, and of course matrimony would cure her of 
all that. Besides, it would probably have required a 
good deal of moral energy to correct her ideas, and 
energy was a thing for which Mr. Crossley had never 
been remarkable. He knew perfectly well that his 
daughter’s character was far stronger than his own, 
and for this reason he contented himself with calling 
her Miss Providence,” and twitting her with the 
failures she met in attempting to keep the balance of 
luck straight among her rustic proteges. This was 
much pleasanter and easier to do than arguing about 
principles. The affectionate mockery was a rather 
heavy strain upon Florence’s not overgreat stock of 


18 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


patience, while the ideas within her sunk all the 
deeper for having to be repressed. 

Her first meeting with Louis had swept them all 
from her mind, only to return in double force, with 
the consciousness that her happiness was accomplished. 
Could it be right to be so perfectly, so blissfully happy 
as this? A gaunt, witch-like phantom seemed to rise 
from out of the mists of childhood, and to answer, 
'Nol ’’ An increase of her periodical charities failed 
to ease her romantic conscience. It was all so absurdly 
smooth, so ignominiously easy. Her father was de- 
lighted with her choice; Louisas relations would of 
course be equally pleased; everybody she met beamed 
approval on her— it was, as the vicar had said, a 
perfect match.’’ Wealth, health, mutual affection, 
they had everything they could possibly wish for. 
Look which way she would, scan the horizon as she 
might, there was no espying even the tiniest cloud to 
stain the heaven of her bliss. 


CHAPTER III. 


CORRY. 

And yet, though she knew it not, just beyond that 
line of horizon there was a tempest gathering. 

Exactly at the moment when Florence stood on the 
terrace, complaining to her future husband of her 
unbearable good fortune, a conversation was taking 
place in London, between people whom she had never 
seen, but who, nevertheless, were destined to gravely 
influence her life. 

The gaslit attic room was occupied by two 
young women, one of whom lay on a cast-iron bed- 
stead that was too short for her, covered with a de- 
fective blanket, and with a bundle of shawls thrust in 
under the one thin pillow, in which the feverishly 
working head had almost worn a hole. She was evi- 
dently tall, for she could not afford to stretch her legs, 
and she was evidently thin, for every time she moved 
the blankets fell into sharp lines, never into soft 
curves. The flush on her cheek was too bright for the 
tint of the rest of her face, while half an old towel 
dipped in cold water had been laid over her forehead, 
and was continually slipping over her eyes in a man- 
ner which suggested a sort of ghostly game at blind- 
man’s-buff. The other half of the towel lay soaking 
19 


20 


MISS PKOVIDENCE. 


in a basin on a chair close by. It was the second oc- 
cupant of the room who changed the compresses in 
the intervals of a supper of ham and eggs, which she 
had just been frying for herself by aid of the dregs of 
the coal-scuttle. 

She was far too delicate an apparition for the sur- 
roundings, — small, slender, with a bird-like vivacity 
and grace in every movement, with the skin of a wild 
flower, and a cloud of pale gold hair that looked as 
though, like thistle down, it might be blown away 
with a breath, and with large, light blue eyes that 
moved a little too quickly. The first impression she 
gave was that of a fairy in disguise — of something, at 
any rate, too daintily fantastic to be quite human ; but 
a second look generally modified this impression, for 
either in the quickly moving blue eyes, or in the 
rather full curve of the livid lips, or else in the car- 
riage of the small but well moulded figure — or perhaps 
in all three together — there was, on the contrary, a 
suggestion of an essentially human element, rather 
more distinctly human, in fact, than what is generally 
met with in average human beings. On any one else 
the travel-stained gown and the faded ribbon round 
the neck would have looked tawdry; on her they 
only looked picturesque, while the untidy mop of hair, 
instead of suggesting the want of a comb, was 
more likely to fill with envy the hearts of women 
whose hair does not wave naturally. In age she 
looked barely eighteen, but was in reality twenty- 
three. 

And you think he’s given you the slip for 
good?” asked the girl in the bed, and as she threw 
herself round on her pillow it was easy to see, despite 


CORRY. 


21 


her haggard cheeks, that she too was quite young, 
younger probably than her companion. 

If I wasn’t sure of that do you suppose I’d have 
chucked the matter so soon? Do lie still, Bella, or 
you’ll be having that compress off again! I half ex- 
pected it, besides. About halfway through the voy- 
age, I began to see he’d had enough of me, and, sure 
enough, the very first thing he did on landing was to 
get lost in the crowd.” 

Perhaps it was by mistake,” murmured Bella. 

Ifo, it wasn’t; I wasn’t born yesterday, you 
know, and it’s always best to see things plain. But 
oh, Bella, it is a pity! If you could have seen the 
sweep of his moustache! ” 

She remained for a moment, apparently lost in 
memories, a morsel of ham daintily poised upon her 
fork. 

Then what are you going to do next? ” asked 
Bella after a minute. 

The other sighed quickly and put the ham into her 
mouth, but she was smiling again before she had done 
eating it. 

How should I know? I haven’t had time to 
make plans yet. Something generally turns up; at 
any rate I mean to sleep over it. I suppose it’ll be 
a choice between the old governess business and the 
stage, and I expect it will end with the stage. Poor 
mother can’t object any longer, and I’m sure they’ll 
take me on. The only question is: what as? I’m 
too small for most parts — though I know I could 
manage every one of them; and for the ballet, which 
would be my proper field, it’s rather late. One has 
to be trained in the nursery, you know.” 


22 


MISS PKOVIDENCE. 


Bella gazed iuteiitlj' at her friend from under 
the shelter of the shifting compress. 

“ How much money have you got remaining? ” 

“ Well, let me see: it’s either one shilling over or 
one shilling under the pound; 1 can’t say for certain 
without looking.” 

‘‘ Oh, Corry ! And yet you buy a supper of ham 
and eggs, and I do believe you actually enjoy it! ” 

“ Of course I do. If 1 am to starve to-morrow 
that’s no reason, that I can see, for not being 
thankful for a good supper to-day. Besides, I need 
my brains for thinking out my position, and brains 
have to be fed — to starve them would be no economy 
at all. It all depends on being on the look out; some- 
thing generally turns up, I tell you.” 

“Not for me!” sighed Bella, heavily. “Or if 
something good ever does turn up, something bad is 
sure to come in between. That’s the way it was with 
that school post I was to get; scarcely had I signed 
the agreement when I caught this bad cold, and here 
I am.” 

“ And you call a school post something good? My 
poor Bella, you couldn’t have stood it for a month. 
There! I told you that compress would be off.” 

She laid down her knife and fork, and, going over 
to the bed, with her delicate white hands — her hands 
were as fine and as well cared for as those of a duchess 
— picked up the fallen compress, fished the fresh one 
out of the water, jiressed it out, and settled it on Bella’s 
hot forehead, rearranging blanket and pillow as they 
required it, with a few swift, light touches. 

“ You are very good to me, Corry,” said Bella, 
rather shakily, catching at one of the small, cool hands 


CORRY. 


23 


with her hot one. The idea of you looking me up 
after all these years! I should have thought that 
your Bush life would have quite blotted all your old 
friends from your mind.’’ 

Perhaps I counted on your giving me a shake- 
down, and wanted to save the night’s lodging,” re- 
marked Corry, returning to her ham. Besides, I 
never said that I had been living in the Bush.” 

Where have you been living, then? You must 
have had adventures in five years, and I do wish you’d 
tell me them.” 

Perhaps I have had adventures,” said Corry, 
smiling a little mysteriously at her last bit of egg, 
but they must wait till you’re well again; I can- 
not tell you stories while you are so feverish.” 

She knew quite well that Bella was not going to 
get well again, but Bella did not know it, and there 
was no object in enlightening her. 

Well, whatever you’ve been doing, I’m sure it 
wasn’t anything very bad. You’re queer, of course, 
but you’re never unkind. I’m sure you’d never do 
any one a bad turn, nor take away anything they 
wanted to keep.” 

Not unless I wanted it very badly myself,” 
modified Corry. 

And — and you don’t tell lies now, do you, 
Corry? I remember that you were rather quick with 
your fibbing in the short-petticoat time.” 

Yot unless I have an object,” said Corry, se- 
renely. 

Bella took another look at her, and sighed. 

I’m sure you’re making yourself out worse than 
you are. To me you’ve always been nice. I shall 


24 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


never forget the sash you gave me off your very waist, 
because I cried for it, that time we were playing the 
Midsummer Night’s Dream in the hack kitchen. 
What a state your mother was in ! And now to think 
of your going on tlie stage, after all! Corry, I do 
wish you wouldn’t! It doesn’t seem to me the real 
straight way of getting along.” 

“ It’s a grand way, though, and I’ve got to do 
something. What other alternatives have you to 
offer? I’m quite open to suggestions.” 

“ Well, you seem to have made a good governess 
— though it is hard to imagine you exercising author- 
ity — and then there are the schools. Look here, Cor- 
ry, why shouldn’t you apply for the post I was booked 
for? They’ll be in a mess, at any rate, at my having 
left them in the lurch, and pretty ready to take what 
ever they can get, so long as the certificates are all 
right.” 

Corry laughed good-humouredly. 

“ Thank you for a very pretty compliment, but 
I can’t say I’m dazzled by the offer. I’ve tried school- 
mistressing over there, you see, and have had about 
enough of it. Fifty pounds, I suppose — or is it 
sixty? ” 

“ Fifty.” 

‘ Corry made a dainty little grimace. 

“ And a set of lumbering young villagers — ugh ! 
No, thank you, Bella, I think I can do a little better 
than that.” 

“ But coals and lodging are included,” persisted 
Bella, feverishly on fire with her new idea. “ And 
Stonefield is said to he not half a bad place.” 

Corry had risen from her place at the table, and 


CORRY. 


25 


was examining the horsehair sofa with a view to pass- 
ing the night upon it. She turned round quickly 
now. 

Stonefield?” she asked in a tone of greater at- 
tention. Is that the name of the village you were 
to have gone to? ’’ 

Yes, of course; didn’t I tell you? It’s on the 
property of Sir Louis Hepburne.” 

Sir Philip Hepburne, you mean.” 

The old man? Oh, he’s been dead for years.” 

Then it must be Sir Charles Hepburne; Louis 
was the younger brother.” 

Yes, but he’s come into it now, through Sir 
Charles having broken his neck over a stone wall 
last year, or got drowned, or something.” 

Corry sat down upon the sofa, and appeared to be 
reflecting. 

Are you quite sure of this? ” she asked at 

last. 

Yes, positive. I found it all out from Ethel 
Barnie, when I thought I was going down there. 
She’s been in those parts, you know. But I can’t 
exactly remember,” added Bella, conscientiously, 
whether it was a stone wall that did for Sir Charles, 
or something else.” 

Corry made a movement which seemed to say that 
the point was irrelevant. 

Is he married? ” she next inquired. 

Sir Louis? Hot that I know of — no, I’m almost 
certain he isn’t. He only came back from India when 
he succeeded, and he’s barely out of mourning yet. 
What are you after now, Corry? Do you know Sir 
Louis? ” 


26 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


“ That’s queer! ” was all the answer Corry made, 
and then relapsed into silence. 

I suppose I should have to apply for the post 
immediately?” she presently remarked. 

Then you are going to try for it, after all? ” 

It strikes me that I might do worse. But you’ve 
talked enough for to-night; it’s time to be getting to 
sleep. Here’s a fresh compress, and mind you call 
me if you want anything.” 

And having turned out the gas and wrapped 
herself in a shawl, Corry lay down contentedly in her 
clothes upon the horsehair sofa. 

Five minutes later Bella, still wide awake, heard 
her old playfellow chuckling softly to herself, under 
cover of the shawl. 

What’s the matter, Corry? ” she asked a little 
bewildered. 

Ifothing; only I told you that something would 
turn up, and now it has.” 


( 


CHAPTER IV. 


FOR A BEGINNING. 

On an early day in June, Florence Crossley set out 
on one of those long solitary drives which were among 
the pleasures of her life. She had at last got Tom 
Leake resigned to the adoption of his two ill-used 
nephews, at present resident at Stonefield. Towards 
Stonefield, therefore, she had turned her pony’s head 
to-day, in order to settle matters with the hard-hearted 
stepmother. 

Her way lay at first through innumerable, almost 
level lanes, with hedges so high that they barred the 
outlook. Green fields rolled gently on either side; 
occasionally, through a gap in the hedge, the fiash of 
a broad river rolling peacefully in the sunlight would 
be caught; but no eminence was ever gained, there- 
fore there was no view, properly speaking, unless it 
were the dark line of hills that rose to the west, often 
lost sight of at a turning, but recovered again at the 
next, and, in a certain sense, dominating the horizon 
on this one side. A gracious and fertile country, with 
juicy looking meadows and luxuriant trees, but free 
of surprises; a country of soft swells and gradual 
slopes, of rich orchards and shady pathways, present- 
ing no sharp contrasts, but exceedingly tempting to the 
eye, and unaccountably cheering to the heart. 

3 27 


28 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Even Florence, who knew every yard by heart, 
couldn’t help lingering by the way. It was the very 
afternoon for a drive: warm, but not too warm; 
breezy, but not too breezy; and the world’s green 
dress for the season was still so new, with neither stain 
nor rent upon it ; and in two days at most Louis would 
be back — he had been gone now for six — and what 
better surroundings for dwelling on the meeting to 
come than these blossoming trees and flowering 
grasses? She looked about her, and sighed deeply and 
tremulously in the excess of her great happiness. 

After a time the road began to rise, and the hedges 
grew scarcer, and presently Florence emerged with 
her pony-carriage on to an open road. The line of 
hills was much nearer now, and the outlook wider. 
She was heading straight towards them, and the nearer 
she drew the more did the character of the country 
change. The luxuriant trees first grew less luxuriant, 
then scarcer, then became reduced to solitary wind- 
blown specimens; single boulders began to appear on 
waste places, the road gave forth a harder ring under 
the pony’s hoofs, stone walls took the place of the 
waving hedges down on the plain, while heather and 
furze gradually forced buttercups and daisies into 
the background. The valley country had melted 
with curious rapidity into the hill country. 

Xot long after she had got free of the lanes, 
Florence’s eye had been caught by a black figure far 
off on the deserted road. She looked at it idly at first, 
merely because it happened to be the only moving 
thing within sight at the moment, but by-and-by with 
awakening curiosity. It was a woman’s figure, but 
unlike the women she was accustomed to meet here: 


“FOR A beginning; 


29 


neither a sturdy farmer’s wife nor a ragged tramp. 
The pedestrian’s face was turned this way, and as the 
distance between them diminished, Florence’s curios- 
ity increased. Soon she was near enough to see that 
this was a singularly fair-headed young girl, in more 
or less fashionable dress, very small and slight, and 
tripping with extraordinary lightness over the stony 
road. She did not think she had ever seen her before, 
and she knew everybody by sight for miles around. 
While she was asking herself where she was to fit 
her in, the stranger had got abreast of the carriage. 
Her pace had been slackening for a few minutes 
past, and, owing to the steep ascent, Florence was 
driving very slowly just then. The two girls looked 
full at each other, and the next moment would have 
passed, had not the unknown pedestrian suddenly 
stood still. Florence pulled up her pony immedi- 
ately, feeling certain that the other had something to 
say. 

I beg your pardon,” said the stranger, pleasantly, 
and without a shade of diffidence, but you are Miss 
Crossley, are you not? ” 

Yes. Do you want to speak to me? ” 

The few words and the manner in which they 
were said had shown Florence that the speaker was 
a lady, but at the same time she could not help ob- 
serving that the grey kid gloves were sadly worn at 
the tips, and the red parasol bleached to the semblance 
of a faded poppy. ISTow that she saw her close she 
knew for certain, not only that she had never seen her 
before, but also that she had never even seen any one 
in the least like her. 

It is in order to speak to you that I am on my 


30 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


way to Heywood at this moment. I am Miss Far- 
thingall, the new schoolmistress at Stonefield.’^ 

And you have walked all this way! was 
Florence’s instinctive exclamation. It was the first 
thought that struck her as she looked down at the 
small figure whose slenderness verged on frailty, 
whose miniature feet seemed quite unsuitable for 
tramping these rough roads, yet whose tenderly tinted 
face, strangely enough, was not even fiushed by the 
long, sliadeless walk. The new schoolmistress, of 
course! How stupid of her not to have thought of it 
before! 

What choice had I, since I do not keep a car- 
riage?” said Miss Farthingall, with a half sunny, 
half wistful smile. 

AVhen she smiled she looked even younger than 
when she spoke; and at the thought that anything 
so small and delicate as this creature appeared to 
be should be put to such a pass as this, Florence felt 
that particular pang of pity which always visited her 
at sight of any one less fortunate than herself. 

AVell, at least I hope you will make use of 
mine,” she said, far more diffidently than the school- 
mistress had spoken. If you have anything to say 
to me you can tell it me while I am driving you home. 
Since we have met, there is no reason for your going 
on to Heywood.” 

But, instead of jumping at the offer. Miss Far- 
thingall appeared to be hesitating. She looked back 
towards Stonefield, doubtfully, then again in the di- 
rection of Heywood. 

It is very kind of you, but there is some one else 
in Heywood whom I have promised to speak to, and I 


‘‘FOE A BEGINNING. 


31 


am not so very tired. I suppose it will not take me 
long to get there now? ’’ 

Indeed it will! You are scarcely half way 
yet. If it was not that I have business with Mrs. 
Leake at Stonefield, I should be so glad to turn back 
with you.’’ 

Mrs. Leake!” exclaimed the other, almost joy- 
fully. Why, it seems to me that our business is 
identical. It is exactly from Mrs. Leake that I am 
bringing you a message to-day. I happened to be in 
her house yesterday, and she told me all about your 
project for the boys, and, as I had a free afternoon 
to-day, and was glad of the chance of seeing the coun- 
try, I offered to take her message, as well as to settle 
details with the uncle.” 

Oh,” said Florence, her face clearing, then 
that’s all right! I needn’t go to Stonefield at all to- 
day, and I’ll show you Heywood instead, since you 
want to see the country; and then, if the arrangement 
suits you. I’ll make William drive you back before 
dark.” 

Judging from the grateful smile and from the 
alacrity with which she now took a place in the pony- 
carriage, the arrangement suited Miss Farthingall 
verj^ well indeed. 

How did you recognize me? ” Florence asked, 
as she turned the pony. 

Miss Farthingall laughed. Oh, you were de- 
scribed to me,” she said lightly. 

The interview with Tom Leake having been satis- 
factorily got over, Florence drove straight back to the 
house, for it was past teatime, and her experience 
with schoolmistresses made her feel certain that 


32 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


this one had not had over-much to eat to-day. She 
was very pleased with her new acquaintance, whose 
quiet assurance of bearing was an agreeable contrast 
to the regulation manners of her class, and whose fail- 
face aroused in her a feeling of enthusiastic admira- 
tion; but she could not look at her, nor at her gloves, 
without wishing that she could do something more for 
her than merely give her a lift in the pony-carriage. 

As they turned in at the gates, and rolled under 
the branches of the mighty beeches, which, between 
them, seemed bent on smothering the rambling grey 
old hall in their leafy embraces. Miss Farthingall 
looked about her with eyes of lively interest. 

“ You have a lovely home,” she said thoughtfully. 

You must be very happy here.” 

But it was on reaching Florence’s private apart- 
ment — a dream of comfort and unostentatious lux- 
ury, with soft-tinted hangings and well-lined book- 
shelves, and the easiest of easy chairs, opening their 
arms invitingly to whomsoever entered, with costly 
trifles standing about at haphazard, and fresh-cut 
flowers standing in every corner— that the interest 
of the schoolmistress evidently reached its height. 
She had grown rather silent since entering the park 
gates; now she said nothing at all, but stood looking 
^ about her with quickly moving blue eyes which took 
in everything. 

“ I’m just going to take olf my hat,” said Florence; 

“ and please make yourself comfortable meanwhile.” 

The moment that she was alone Miss Farthingall’s 
face changed. Her attitude became more alert, while 
into the eyes that had only been observant, there came 
a more intense, a hungrier look. Over everv part of 


^‘FOR A BEGINNING. 


33 


the room they passed longingly, hanging fast here 
and there, as though they could not free themselves. 
She took up an ivory paper-cutter from the table be- 
side her, and looked long at the turquoises with which 
the handle was encrusted; then, going up to one of 
the curtains, she felt the texture between her fingers, 
and enviously sighed. Then, shaking her head, as 
though to get rid of some oppression, she walked with 
a certain business-like air up to the nearest bookcase, 
and read the names on the books: there were at least 
two poets to one prose writer. A smile came to the 
schoolmistresses face as she read. Still smiling, she 
moved to the piano alongside, and rapidly turned 
over a few of the songs on its top. The smile deep- 
ened, and a little satisfied nod seemed to say, Yes, 
that fits!’’ On a basket table there lay a piece of 
work; she went nearer to look at it, and when she 
saw that it was a small jacket of strong fiannel, of a 
sort much affected by rustic babies, she nerely laughed 
aloud. 

All at once she caught sight of a photograph on 
the mantlepiece, and almost sprang towards it. It 
was the last portrait of Sir Louis Hepburne, taken at 
about the time of his engagement, and showing his 
fine head and shoulders to admirable advantage. The 
schoolmistress uttered a rapid exclamation, and, carry- 
ing it to the light, began to examine it attentively. 
She was still standing there immovable, with her head 
bent, when Florence returned. 

Oh, Miss Farthingall, with your hat still on! ’’ 
she exclaimed reproachfully. 

Miss Farthingall turned and looked at her hostess 
with an expression in her eyes which had not been 


34 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


there before, and which for just one moment made 
Florence wonder vaguely. At the same time she 
perceived the photograph in her hand. 

Oh/’ she said, and blushed a little, I suppose I 
ought to explain how that comes to be here ? ” 

It is Sir Louis Hepburne, is it not? ” asked Miss 
Farthingall, quickly. 

Yes; and we are engaged to be married.” 

It was not until much later that it occurred to 
her to wonder how the new schoolmistress had found 
out the original of the portrait so quickly. 

So they told me at Stonefield,” remarked Miss 
Farthingall, quite composedly now, as she returned 
the phdto to its place; but I felt rather too much 
of a stranger to offer my congratulations.” 

We shall not be strangers for long, I hope,” said 
Florence, warmly. I feel sure that you will help 
me with my work; in fact, you have begun by help- 
ing me. ^^^othing could have been more providential 
than our meeting on the road.” 

If I am no help it will not be for want of good- 
will. But, tell me. Miss Crossley, what is your work 
exactly? ” 

The visitor’s hat was removed by this time, and 
both girls were ensconced in low chairs. Florence 
could not help being struck by the ease with which 
Miss Farthingall had let herself down into hers — it was 
not what she was accustomed to in schoolmistresses. 
The way this little person lounged there, as though to 
the manner born, only helped to heighten Florence’s 
interest in her, and awaken the conviction that she 
must have seen better days. 

My work? Well, it’s rather difficult to explain; 


“FOR A BEGINNING. 


35 


it just consists in whatever conies my way. This 
question now of Tom Leake adopting his nephews — 
I don’t think any one else would have taken it in 
hand if I had not.” 

Miss Farthingall did not answer immediately. 
From under her long yellow lashes she was intently 
watching her hostess, whose dark head was thrown 
back against the red cushion of the chair. She is 
handsomer without her hat than with it,” her reflec- 
tions ran meanwhile. Her face is not perfect, but 
it’s just the sort to make a man mad.” 

And why did you take it in hand? ” she asked, 
after a moment. 

In order to lighten the poor boys’ wretched lot. 
That step-mother ill-uses them horribly, and I simply 
can’t look on at that sort of thing.” 

I see; you have too soft a heart.” 

Ifot that, but I have a certain sense of justice, 
which makes me long to put things right when I see 
them wrong.” 

see,” said Miss Farthingall again; and then 
broke off so abruptly that Florence glanced inquiring- 
ly at her. 

A footman had just entered with a tray, and, fol- 
lowing the direction of the schoolmistress’s eyes, 
Florence saw that they were flxed upon the covered 
silver dish from which issued a hot and most appetiz- 
ing scent. In the delight of sniffing the suggestive 
air, she seemed suddenly to have forgotten what she 
was saying, while the blue eyes dilated as they looked, 
and the tip of her rosy tongue appeared, quick as a 
flash, first at one and then at the other corner of the 
expectant mouth. 


36 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Hungry! ’’ said Florence to herself, and her 
heart contracted with a new pang of pity. “ Posi- 
tively hungry! Oh, why did I not bring her back 
here at once? Oh, how thoughtless 1 am! 

She made such haste now to pour out the tea that 
she almost scalded her fingers, and in her fear lest the 
schoolmistress should be too modest to help herself 
decently, she emptied about half the tea-cakes on to 
her plate. It looked a tremendous portion for 
an apparently so ethereal person, but, to Florence’s 
relief, as well as slightly to her surprise, the pile dis- 
appeared wdth a rapidity which, despite her far 
more substantial frame, she never could have emu- 
lated. 

For a time little was said. To a more prosaic 
mind there might, at this juncture, besides the word 
hungry,” also have occurred another adjective, but 
Florence, as she watched her guest, well-pleased, could 
think only of the pitiable lot of those who are forced 
to eat their fill under strange roofs. Miss Farthingall, 
as she sipped her tea and put one morsel of tea-cake 
after another into her rosy mouth, was somewhat of a 
study at this moment. It was the very best tea-cake 
she had ever eaten, and she was enjoying it with all 
the gusto of a highly sensitive palate. The tea also 
^ was perfect, and the exquisite china it was served in 
helped to make it more perfect in her eyes. It was 
with an almost affectionate tenderness that she 
handled the delicate cup, as well as the quaint silver 
spoon. The lids were half sunk over her eyes, as 
though she were lost in some blissful dream. But 
she had not really forgotten what she meant to say; 
she had only postponed it. Her plate was well-nigh 


FOR A BEGINNING/ 


37 - 


empty when, with a luxurious sigh, she looked straight 
across at her hostess. 

So it is your sense of justice that makes you 
bother about other people? ’’ she observed, taking up 
the discussion exactly where it had been dropped. 

I suppose it is; or perhaps it is only my own peace 
of mind I am after. It makes me feel uncomfortable 
to see miserable people.^’ 

^^Ah?’’ remarked Miss Farthingall, with a dis- 
tinct point of interrogation, and a look which evi- 
dently waited for more. 

Yes; you see it was this way.’’ And, some- 
what awkwardly at first, yet with awakening warmth, 
Florence proceeded to bring out some of her pet 
theories of life. Miss Farthingall throwing in a ques- 
tion here and there, and never taking her eyes off the 
other’s face. 

If all people were like you, there would be hope 
for the unfortunate,” said the schoolmistress, thought- 
fully at last. 

Florence saw the blue eyes shining with what 
looked like genuine excitement, and wondered what 
she had been saying. It was not her way to be ex- 
pansive, but the evident interest with which she had 
been listened to, and the expectant glances, had led 
her on further than she was accustomed to go with her 
intimates, let alone strangers. She put up her hands 
to her cheeks now and felt that they were burning. 

There would be hope for the unfortunate,” re- 
peated Miss Farthingall; and then added a little lower. 
Perhaps there would even be hope for me.” 

Then you are one of the unfortunate ! ” cried 
Florence, carried out of herself for the moment. I 


38 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


felt certain of it as soon as I saw you. Oh, if only I 
could help you ! 

That would be expecting a little too much/^ 
said Miss Farthingall, with a queer smile, which was 
almost a grimace. After all, what can it matter to 
you whether I am unfortunate or not? Has not 
every second woman you meet suffered some sort of 
wrong? ” 

The words were said with so curious an emphasis 
that Florence stared, but at the same moment the 
schoolmistress got up hastily, and began speaking in 
quite a different tone, as though provoked with herself 
for having gone so far. It was time for her to be 
going, she smilingly assured her hostess; she ought 
to be looking after to-morrow’s lessons, instead of chat- 
tering over the tea-cups. 

But you will come to tea with me again next 
week ? ” pleaded Florence at parting. 

Miss Farthingall was about to utter an eager 
Yes,” when something seemed to occur to her. 

I^ot until you have returned my visit,” she 
laughed, with that charming audacity which had 
taken Florence’s fancy by storm from the moment 
of their meeting. It is easier for you to move than 
for me. What good-looking servants you have here ! ” 
she suddenly interrupted herself. The footman 
who brought in the tea was a typical Anglo-Saxon, 
and this groom here has got almost classical features. 
Is that the one who is to drive me home ? I have such 
a strongly developed aesthetic sense that I can’t help 
noticing these things,” she added quickly, meeting 
Florence’s slightly bewildered gaze. But you 
haven’t promised me the visit yet. Will you come? ” 


“FOR A BEGINNING. 


39 


I will/’ said Florence, readily; and she turned 
back to her sitting-room as the pony-carriage left the 
door. 

The evening post had been brought in meanwhile, 
and among the letters was one from Louis. She 
opened it with bright eyes, which clouded as she read. 
Sir Louis was writing to say that, owing to an indis- 
position of his mother’s, his return would have to be 
postponed for at least a week, possibly for longer. 

Florence laid the letter down with an impatient 
exclamation. It was but a small disappointment, 
comparatively speaking, but she had never been ac- 
customed to disappointments, and did not know how 
to bear them. 

Meanwhile, the schoolmistress, as she passed out 
through the gates of Heywood Hall, was saying to 
herself, I think that will do for a beginning.” 


CHAPTEK V. 


STONEFIELD. 

The difference between Heywood and Stonefield 
was the difference between a sleek and smiling milk- 
maid and an unkempt mountain brigand. There all 
blinking cottages and overflowing gardens, here 
rugged stony houses enclosed in rugged stony walls, 
and backed by the hill-fastnesses, where rocky gorges 
had, in the old outlaw days, often proved a mere trap 
to the arm of justice. Ever since her childhood, 
Florence had looked with a shiver of awe at the grey 
pile whose clumsy, round tower, reared sharply against 
the naked line of hill behind, seemed to dominate the 
grey village at its feet, but only one of whose chimneys 
ever smoked: that of the caretaker who looked after 
the place, which the family visited only at long inter- 
vals, preferring their less pretentious, but more 

modern residence in shire. Stonefleld was the 

cradle of the race, no doubt, but cradles dating from 
the thirteenth century are not apt to be comfortable; 
it was a place to be proud of, but not to live in — so, at 
least, all the latter Heywoods had decided. But Sir 
Louis was of another opinion. To modify the discom- 
forts of the old pile by means of modern appliances, 
and then to pitch his tent, where his forefathers had 
40 


STONEFIELD. 


41 


seen the light of day, was his pet plan, at which ever 
since he succeeded he had been working, with the re- 
sult that he now felt himself justified in fetching 
home his mother. And now Florence could look up 
at what her father called the old robbers’ nest ” 
without any shiver of awe, but with the happy glow 
brought to her heart by the knowledge that she was 
looking at her future home. 

Only five days had passed since Miss Farthingall 
had drunk tea with her, for, although no especial busi- 
ness brought her to Stonefield to-day — the adoption 
of Tom Leake’s nephews being already an accom- 
plished fact — she had not been able to wait a whole 
week before returning the visit. The more she re- 
fiected upon the remarks dropped by the schoolmis- 
tress on that occasion — and her imagination had been 
at work on them ever since — the more convinced did 
she feel that Miss Farthingall must have gone through, 
or be going through some heavy trial, which, although 
evidently bravely borne, must yet be very hard to bear. 
To perceive that something was wrong, and to feel 
vaguely pushed towards putting it right somehow, 
were, with Florence, two simultaneous things. Most 
wrong things can be put right — such was her creed — 
if only people will take the trouble. But in order 
to be of any use here she would need to know more, 
and therefore it was that she had not been able to keep 
away from Stonefield for a whole week. The more 
quickly she got intimate with Miss Farthingall, the 
more chance would there be of discovering the cause 
of her trouble. 

The schoolhouse had just given forth its stream 
of dishevelled urchins and short petticoated lassies, 


42 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


but the long, bare, oppressively close room still reeked 
of their presence, although the only figure visible was 
that of the schoolmistress, with her elbow on the desk, 
her chin in her hand, and eyes somewhat moodily fixed 
on the wall opposite, while the heap of copy-books 
before her lay untouched and apparently forgotten. 
At sight of her visitor she started up with a joyful ex- 
clamation, not, however, without having first cast a 
hurried glance downwards at her attire. In such 
contingencies the instinctive question generally is. 
Am I well enough dressed? but in this case, curi- 
ously enough, what passed through Miss Farthingalhs 
mind was, I wish I had put on my old merino; this 
cotton looks almost fresh.’’ 

The exclamation, as well as the obviously genuine 
pleasure, went straight to Florence’s heart. Evi- 
dently the sympathy was mutual. 

This is too sweet of you ! ” the schoolmistress 
was saying, pressing her visitor’s hand with a strength 
for which Florence never would have credited those 
fairy-like fingers. I could not have felt quite easy 
until I had returned your kind hospitality. And now 
let me do the honours of the premises; I have a bigger 
reception-room than you, you see,” she added with 
one of her wistful smiles. 

Florence looked around her. She had been in the 
Stonefield schoolroom before, but it had generally 
been on such festive occasions as prize-givings or 
Christmas treats, when flower-garlands or holly- 
wreaths had done much towards masking the bareness 
of these white-washed walls. Certainly the dreari- 
ness of the apartment had never obtruded itself 
upon her as it did now, when she knew that she was 


STONEFIELD. 


43 


looking at the background of Miss FarthingalFs daily 
life. 

Why do you make such a dismal face? asked 
Miss Farthingall, laughing. DonH you think it’s a 
nice room? Perhaps you would like some more pic- 
tures on the walls? But that would distract my 
pupils, and me too, I’m afraid! I dare say it will be 
rather draughty in winter, for these windows don’t 
close just perfectly, but one can guard against that 
with a shawl; besides, I’m used to these small in- 
conveniences, you know.” 

At this moment Florence heard a sound in the 
corner behind her, and looked round to perceive a 
ten-year-old boy sullenly cowering on a stool, with 
his nose buried in a book. 

Oh, Fred Hall!” remarked Miss Farthingall, 
coolly; I had forgotten his existence. He was to 
have stopped an hour longer, but I shall let him off 
in your honour. Fred Hall, come here! ” 

The boy rose heavily, and slouched towards the 
desk, before which Miss Farthingall had again taken 
her place, as though more distinctly to assume her 
official character. 

What was that you said between class hours, 
Fred Hall? ” inquired the schoolmistress, fixing her 
eyes upon the boy’s face. Her whole manner had 
undergone a complete change in one moment, — her 
features set, and every trace of a smile gone from her 
face. 

I said as ’ow I could put ’ee in my pocket easy 
when I ’as five years older nor now,” drawled out the 
boy, reluctantly. 

And will you ever say that again? ” 

4 


u 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


1^0 answer. The culprit studied his boots in- 
tently for a while, then, as though compelled against 
his will, squinted up into the schoolmistress’s face. 
Yes, — it was just as he had guessed: the light blue 
eyes were still upon him. 

Will you ever say that again? ” 

Na-aw,” said the boy in a burst, aware only of 
the necessity of getting away from those eyes. 

Then you can go.” 

And he went with amazing alacrity. 

I was going to have- asked you how on earth you 
manage to get yourself obeyed by these unruly hill- 
side children — I know how obstreperous they are,” 
said Florence almost awe-struck — but now I think 
I know.” 

I always manage to get obeyed,” answered Miss 
Farthingall, beginning to smile again. I have had 
to punish several of them for making fun of my appear- 
ance. Because they belong to a race of giants them- 
selves, they can’t realize that small people are any 
good in the world; but I don’t think I shall have to 
punish any more on that account,” she added with a 
quiet gleam in her eye. 

Florence looked at her admiringly. The short 
scene had revealed Miss Farthingall to her in a new- 
light, and one which she had not suspected. 

And now,” said the schoolmistress, rising again, 
come into my private den — I lodge in the house, 
you know — and let me give you a cup of tea.” 

Preceding Florence, she crossed the passage, and 
opened a door on the other side. A small, one-win- 
dowed room was revealed. Miss Farthingall walked 
quickly to the middle of it, and then stood still so 


STONEFIELD. 


45 


suddenly that Florence^ following, came near to 
knocking against her. 

Good gracious!’’ the schoolmistress exclaimed, 
bringing her two hands together with an almost dra- 
matic gesture. How horribly careless of me! I 
actually forgot that the room has not been done out 
to-day! Old Mrs. Bend, who does it for me, is laid 
up with a stitch in her side, and I really haven’t had 
a moment’s breathing-time to look after it myself. 
Please forgive me! I ought never to have brought 
you in here.” 

Miss Farthingall’s consternation at what she had 
done was so great that she seemed almost to have lost 
her head for a moment, for, instead of immediately 
leading the way out again, she stood for a full half- 
minute longer, apparently rooted to the spot, and 
looking confusedly about her. During that half- 
minute Florence had time to impress on her mem- 
ory various details, which, as she instantly foresaw, 
would haunt her for many days to come: the thin 
blanket on the unmade bed, the chipped washing- 
basin with the dirty water standing in it, the poor 
mean little dressing-gown that hung over the back 
of a chair, even the dregs of the cold breakfast tea in 
the cup, and the empty egg-shell beside it. The 
want of order accentuated each pitiable detail 
tenfold, and, thinking of the hundred daintinesses 
of her own luxurious apartment, Florence felt 
an irresistible sense of depression descending upon 
her. 

I beg your pardon ! Oh, I beg your pardon ! ” 
she murmured, with burning cheeks, acutely aware 
of the discomfort which she felt certain the other must 


46 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


be suffering, and feeling as tliougli she had indiscreet- 
ly forced herself upon this woman’s privacy. 

But Miss Farthingall had apparently recovered 
her wits by this time. 

Haven’t I told you that it’s my fault?” she 
said, with quite a gay little laugh. I’m terribly 
scatter-brained for a schoolmistress — sometimes. But 
nevermind! We’ll have tea in the school-room; I’ve 
the run of it out of school hours, you know.” 

In a few minutes more Florence found herself 
seated on a very hard wooden chair, and in front of a 
deal table plentifully spotted with ink. She was alone 
for the moment, for the schoolmistress had gone to 
forage for the tea-things,” as she expressed herself, 
and her heart was heavy. She could not get rid of 
the picture of that desolate bedroom of which she 
had caught a glimpse. Used as she was to luxury of 
every sort, it seemed to her that under such circum- 
stances life could not be worth living. 

Miss Farthingall, meanwhile, was looking for a 
table-cloth. There were two in the small wall-press 
behind the door in the bedroom. She took them 
both out and unfolded them, one after the other. The 
first was of wretched quality,* but it was entire; the 
schoolmistress frowned as she examined it. The 
second was of equally wretched quality, and had, 
moreover, an undarned hole somewhere about the mid- 
dle. At sight of that hole her face brightened — it 
was that that she had been looking for. She ran back 
to the schoolroom and began busily laying the cloth. 

I think I told you that I don’t keep a footman,” 
she chattered gaily as she moved. I’m afraid you’ll 
have to amuse yourself by drawing figures on the 


STONEFIELD. 


47 


black board while I^m getting the crockery; or there’s 
the map, you know — you might be improving 
your geographical ideas of Great Britain, meanwhile. 
Are you sure you’re quite comfortable on that 
chair? One has got to get used to doing without cush- 
ions.” 

She was gone in another moment, and presently 
back again with an exceedingly battered tray, on 
which stood two cups of different patterns, and two 
plates unrelated to either of the cups. 

I hope you don’t mind their not matching,” she 
said, with an irresistible smile. The second cup 
with rose-buds is the one in my room, but it would 
take me too long to wash it. for the repast it- 

self! I wonder, by-the-by, if there’s any butter in 
the house ? ” 

After a somewhat longer absence she returned, 
bearing in triumph an earthenware teapot, minus half 
the handle, a small can of skim milk, some lumps of 
sugar on a saucer, and a large plate on which reposed 
six slices of bread, thickly cut and thinly buttered. 

What do you say to that?” she asked, as she 
deposited her load upon the table. I thought I had 
seen some butter in the kitchen.” 

Florence said nothing at all, but tried to smile. 
She had taken the opportunity of Miss Farthingall’s 
absence to fling down one of her gloves carelessly on 
the too conspicuous hole in the table-cloth, in order to 
spare her hostess’s feelings; but Miss Farthingall, 
oddly enough, seemed blind to the defect, for, having 
removed the disguising glove, she omitted to replace 
it by either the tea-pot or the milk- jug. 

How do you like my tea? ” she asked, presently. 


48 


MISS PROyiDENCE. 


having filled Florence’s cup. “ I am afraid it isn’t 
quite as good as yours/’ 

It’s very good — very good indeed,” stammered 
Florence, blushing guiltily, for she had not yet learnt 
to fib with ease. 

^^I’m so glad; I was afraid you might be more 
particular. But please have some bread and butter 
— I cut it myself, you know.” 

The first bite made Florence wish that after all 
there had been no butter in the house; dry bread may 
be dreary, but not quite so dreary as rancid butter. 

It was a good idea to knock off that handle,” 
reflected the schoolmistress, as she watched her 
guest’s gallant efforts to swallow at least one slice of 
the dreadful bread, and her endeavours not to look 
towards the decrepit teapot or the unmasked hole. 

Suddenly , the schoolmistress made a quick little 
exclamation, and Florence, looking up, saw her gazing 
at her full cup with an expression of comical dismay. 

'' Dear me, I am stupid to-day! I had quite for- 
gotten that I’ve got nothing to stir it with.” 

" You’ve, forgotten to bring a teaspoon?” sug- 
gested Florence. 

" That’s to say I’ve forgotten that I haven’t 
got one to bring. I had two silver teaspoons which 

used to belong to my mother, but the other one I ” 

I ” 

Florence stared with a horrified question in her 
eyes. 

" I sold it last week,” finished Miss Farthingall, 
as with a supreme effort. " But never mind,” she 
added, before the other could speak; " anything will 
do to stir my tea with. There’s a quite new pen- 


STONEFIELD. 


49 


holder in my desk; it’s not got even a spot of ink on 
it yet — that will do beautifully. There! Spoons 
are only a prejudice, after all! ” 

Don’t; oh, please don’t!” cried out Florence, 
unable to contain herself any longer. Don’t speak 
like that ! ” 

Miss Farthingall looked at her in innocent wonder. 

FTot speak like what? Does it distress you to 
be reminded that I am — well, just a schoolmistress? 
Of course there is no reason for your feelings being 
harassed; I had no idea they were so susceptible. I 
beg your pardon a thousand times. Let us talk of 
something else. How hot it is to-day! An almost 
Australian temperature.” 

Have you been in Australia?” asked Florence, 
astonished. 

I have only just returned from there, after five 
years of home-sickness.” 

But, then, why ? ” began Florence, and then 

stopped short. 

You mean — Why, then, did I ever go? Ah, 
well, that would be a long story, and a dull one, prob- 
ably, to your ears.” 

Certainly not dull,” said Florence, impulsively. 

I have been trying to find courage to ask you to 
speak about yourself — only I don’t quite dare.” 

Miss Farthingall’s eyes opened wider. 

About myself? Is it possible that anything 
about such an insignificant person could interest you? 
Besides, how do you know that I have anything to 
say?” 

I feel sure of it. Something that you said last 
time has made me think. The moment that I saw you 


50 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


I felt certain that yon must have — I mean that you 
ought by rights to be in a better position. You are 
not like other schoolmistresses.” 

IMiss Yarthingall had suddenly become grave. 
Perhaps I ought to be in another position,” she 
remarked, gazing into her cup. “ Perhaps I would 
have been, if all had gone straight; but what is the 
good of talking of that now ? ” 

Please don t think that I want to force myself 
on your confidence!” exclaimed Florence, blushing 
painfully. “ If I appear inquisitive, it is only be- 
cause I cannot conceal the interest with which you in- 
spired me from the first; but if you would rather not 
talk about it, then of course let us drop the subject.’^ 

“ That is easier said than done,” remarked Miss 
Farthingall, a trifle hastily. “ Once touched upon, 
a subject of this sort cannot well be dropped without 
leaving behind it a feeling of constraint. I wonder 
now what you will be imagining about me if I do 
not tell you the real facts?” and she looked into 
Florence’s face with a wonderfully faint smile. 

“ Nothing bad, at any rate,” protested Florence. 

I only thought that perhaps — perhaps you had been 
better off, once upon a time; that you are what people 
call ^ come down in the world/ 

The schoolmistress shook her head, still with that 
faint smile. 

“Guess again! It is true that my father be- 
longed to one of the oldest families in Ireland, but he 
never had any fortune to speak of, so as far as money 
is concerned, I have never really been higher up in 
the world than I am now. If my tastes don’t appear 
quite to tally with my surroundings, I suppose it is 


STONEFIELD. 


51 


because they are inherited; but my trouble is of an- 
other sort/’ 

Oh, if only it was something that could be 
remedied!” said Florence, a trifle excitedly. I 
have known you such a short time, yet I would give 
so much to be able to help you ! ” 

Would you really?” asked Miss Farthingall, 
narrowing the eyes which rested on Florence’s face 
into a peculiarly intense gaze, while her red lips 
twitched just perceptibly with some emotion impos- 
sible to deflne. 

Yes, really — if only it were in my power; but 
I can scarcely hope for that. Since your trouble is 

not of a pecuniary nature, I cannot imagine ” 

She stopped short, hesitating between the fear of 
appearing indiscreet and the desire to be of use, at 
least as a comforter, even if in no other capacity. 

You cannot imagine what can be wrong,” com- 
pleted Miss Farthingall for her. How should you? 
You are too young yourself, and — too prosperous, ever 
to have been what people call ^ crossed in love,’ — 
there ! it is out now, though I had not meant to speak. 
You see it is but the old, old story, after all, and far 
too commonplace an edition of it to interest you.” 

Anything you like to tell me about yourself 
would interest me,” faltered Florence, in whose youth- 
fully romantic heart a very natural curiosity had for 
the moment supplanted every other feeling. 

Miss Farthingall appeared to be debating with 
herself. 

If that is really so,” she remarked, after a min- 
ute, with what appeared to her a lingering remnant 
of hesitation, I suppose there is no reason why I 


52 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


should not tell you my story. It will not take long, 
at any rate; but I give you fair warning that you will 
find it dull.’’ 

She paused again for a few seconds, and appeared 
to be studying the map of Great Britain on the op- 
posite wall, while Florence waited with bated breath. 

I have told you that my parents were not well 
off,” she began after that pause, and with her eyes 
still turned away from her hearer. It was neces- 
sary that I should do something; therefore, as soon as 
I was old enough, I looked out for a situation as gov- 
erness. I found one in a w^ealthy Scotch family, and 
for nearly a year I gave full satisfaction. The year 
was not quite over when there came a visitor to the 
house.” 

Miss Farthingall paused for another second be- 
fore going on, and a thrill of expectation ran through 
Florence. 

He was a cousin of my employers, a man of 
position and several years older than myself. From 
the first he was a great favourite with his little cousins, 
my pupils, and thus we came to be frequently thrown 
together. Soon I began to perceive that these meet- 
ings were growing more frequent than necessary, and 
at the same time something in his manner began to 
make me feel uneasy. In spite of my inexperience, 
I feared for my good name in the houses. I resolved 
to avoid him as much as lay in my power, but his evi- 
dent determination to cross my path at every turn 
was too strong for me; and besides — I will not deny 
it — I had myself to fight against as well, for very 
early in our acquaintance my heart belonged to him. 
I was stupidly innocent at that time, and, seeing his 


STONEFIELD. 


53 


persistence, I took for granted that he intended to 
marry me. This helped to undermine my prudence, 
and from day to day I grew weaker. I know I was to 
blame, but it was only because I trusted to him en- 
tirely; and the end was 

Yes? asked Florence breathlessly. 

The end was that he went away without having 
asked me to be his wife, and leaving me so com- 
promised by his attentions that my employer gave me 
warning on the very day after his departure. 
I could no longer be considered a fit instructress for 
his daughters, I was told. My family, to whom a 
crooked and aggravated edition of the story was re- 
ported, declined to receive me; and altogether it was 
lucky for me that some Australian acquaintances of 
my employer’s happened to be on the look-out for a 
governess, and, being in a hurry to start home, had no 
time to examine too closely into my character. The 
least troublesome proceeding was to palm me off on 
them, for the object was to get me out of the country 
as soon as possible. I verily believe they feared I 
was going to run after my truant admirer, and thus 
get them into a scrape with his parents for not having 
looked after him better.” 

And he never gave a sign of life? ” asked 
Florence, trembling with indignation. 

Never. I dare say he never even thought of 
me again. I had done well enough for a few weeks’ 
amusement — that was all.” 

AVretch! ” cried Florence, springing to her feet 
with impetuously clenched hands. 

No, no, you must not say that! ” said Miss Far- 
thingall, quickly. 


54 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


‘‘ Then you still care for him? ’’ 

The schoolmistress nodded, with her eyes still on 
the map of Great Britain. 

It is possible, you know, that he never was aware 
of the ruin which his acquaintance brought to my 
good name, as well as my position.’’ 

Then he should be enlightened. If he has a 
grain of honour in his composition, he will marry you 
yet. He is not married yet, I hope? ” 

Ho; but he is engaged to be married.” 

That is bad, but still not quite hopeless. Oh, 
Miss Farthingall, I am sure — I am quite sure that if 
he knew the truth he would still do you justice. I 
don’t believe in there being such wicked men in the 
world. There must be some way of acquainting him 
with the facts. I suppose you could not make up 
your mind to write to him, or to her? It is possible 
that she would be generous enough to recognize your 
claims; and, besides, she ought to be enlightened as to 
the character of her future husband. If only it was 
somebody that I knew, then possibly I could do some- 
thing. You haven’t told me his name by-the-by? ” 

I never meant to say his name, and I never 
shall.” 

Hever at all? ” 

. Hever at all.” 

Florence sat down again in an access of dejection. 
That makes it much more difficult. How am I 
to help you if you give me no clue? ” 

My dear Miss Crossley,” said the schoolmistress, 
at last turning her full gaze upon her, ‘‘ it is not 
because I hoped for help that I have confided in you. 
For that my wrong is of too long a standing already — 


STONEFIELD. 


55 


you must remember that all this happened five years 
ago. Your kind sympathy is all the help I have a 
right to expect. The worst of my suffering is over 
already — I will not harrow you by an account of the 
ill-luck which pursued me across the sea. It was 
there that I was forced to leave the schoolmistress busi- 
ness in order not to starve. Now that home-sickness 
has driven me back to England, I can at least hope 
that the story against me is forgotten, and will no 
longer stand in my way — unless, indeed, some unlucky 
chance, some untoward meeting, should unbury it 
again.’^ She sighed uneasily, and looked out of the 
window. For thd rest, I have long been resigned to 
my lot. There are a certain number of necessary vic- 
tims in the world, and I happen to be one of them — 
that is all,’’ and she smiled sadly, gazing deep into 
Florence’s excited eyes. 

That cannot be all, that cannot be all ! ” was all 
that Florence could say. Something ought certainly 
to be done, if I only knew what ! ” 

The thought and even the very words pursued her 
the whole way home. That cannot be all,” she 
said to herself as the pony-carriage crossed the sturdy 
little stQne bridge, under whose pair of low-hanging 
arches the stream rushed foaming, to tumble noisily 
down the village street. It was the same stream 
which down there on the plain spread its waters so 
placidly and flowed in so sober a manner between the 
green fields; but up here, barely freed from its rocky 
nursery, it was a different creature altogether. 

‘‘ That cannot be all ! ” 


CHAPTEE VI. 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 

But it almost seemed as though it were going to 
he all; for although the days that followed upon the 
visit to the schoolhouse brought several other — more 
or less chance meetings between Florence and her 
new friend, and although the subject once touched 
upon between them never sank entirely out of sight, 
there still appeared no prospect of any real object be- 
ing reached. The consciousness of her own helpless- 
ness weighed depressingly upon Florence — all the 
more depressingly for the occasional chance remarks 
which kept her awake to the wretchedness of the situa- 
tion, as well as for the hundreds of small details which 
were for ever obtruding themselves on her notice, and 
telling her again and again how cruel fate had been 
to this dainty being— in affairs of the purse as well as 
in affairs of the heart. “ Something must certainly 
be done,” had been her idea from the first — the idea 
which invariably occurred to her whenever anything 
went wrong in the family affairs of the village. ‘ Force 
of habit had, doubtless, a great deal to do with making 
‘‘ Miss Providence ” feel vaguely responsible for the 
issue of this affair; but personal interest in the victim, 
as well as a certain need of mental occupation — for 


THE GHEEN RIBBON. 


57 


Sir Louis had been forced still further to postpone his 
return — had even more to do with it. 

Nothing, however, could be done without know- 
ing the name of the faithless man. This much was 
clear, even to Florence’s sanguine spirit; and on this 
one point the schoolmistress appeared impenetrable. 
She scarcely shrank now from speaking of her past. 
Florence had learnt that she was the only daughter of 
a highly distinguished but impoverished officer, who 
died in her early childhood; that her mother had fol- 
low^ed him only a few years ago, having died — so 
Florence gathered — broken-hearted and estranged 
from her only child, then absent in Australia, and all 
in consequence of that fatal affair five years ago. 
There were vague hints dropped, too, concerning 
other relations — distant, but wealthy — from whom 
she might have had expectations, which also had been 
lost from the same cause. She spoke to Florence quite 
openly of the mental sufferings she had undergone, 
and, with an almost childish naivete j confided to her 
her undying fidelity to the man who had robbed her of 
everything worth having; but no persuasion could 
induce her to pronounce his name, just as no wile of 
which Florence was capable could catch her tripping 
on this point. Such constancy filled Florence with 
a mixture of rage and admiration. It was insupport- 
able to be thus baffled, but it was also wonderful to see 
this fidelity. 

It is because you want to spare him that you 
will not name him,” she burst out on one of these oc- 
casions. But, tell me — is it really possible that you 
should still care for the wretch after all this? ” 

I cannot help myself,” was the schoolmistress’s 


58 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


answer, accompanied by a rapid little sigh. Wretch, 
or no wretch, he is the only man I could ever really 
love.’^ 

Absurd!’’ said Florence aloud, while in her 
heart of hearts she knew quite well that she would 
have felt exactly the same thing supposing Louis had 
treated her as the unknown man had treated Miss Far- 
thingall. But you do admit that he is a wretch? ” 
she remarked, after a moment. 

The schoolmistress shrugged her shoulders. If 
you knew the world as well as I do,” she said, with 
a lenient smile, you would know what a real wretch 
is like. Measured by the common standard, he — the 
man I am speaking of — has really not done anything 
very bad. He has only made the most of his oppor- 
tunities for pleasure, and then gone on his way smil- 
ing, and without looking back over his shoulder. It 
is a game which can be played with impunity, so long 
as the woman in question is only a poor governess, 
with no protector at hand.” 

Florence threw back her head impatiently against 
the chair-back, and clenched her teeth. These were 
the sort of remarks that, by betraying to her the great- 
ness of the evil, caused the sense of her helplessness 
to become almost unbearable. Something would cer- 
• tainly have to be done — but what? 

I think I have the clue to your secret,” she said 
one day with an irritated laugh. 

As the schoolmistress bent forward to help herself 
to sugar, she had caught sight of a narrow pale-green 
ribbon, which peeped over the somewhat open neck 
of her summer dress, and disappeared again under the 
bodice. 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


59 


Miss Farthingall looked up with a genuinely 
startled glance, and asked quickly, What do you 
mean? 

I mean that ribbon,’’ said Florence, a trifle grim- 
ly, pointing towards the suspected object. I’m 
ready to bet six pairs of gloves on the spot that it’s 
got something to do with him. Either there’s a packet 
of his letters at the end of it, or a curl of his hair in a 
locket, or his portrait, or a dried flower, or Heaven 
knows what; but anyway, I’m sure that if only I 
could get hold of that green ribbon, I would know 
a great deal more than I know now.” 

Nonsense!” Miss Farthingall was beginning, 
but then stopped short. I mean that, of course, I’m 
not going to tell you. I didn’t suppose you could see 
the ribbon, and as for what is on it — well, you must 
just imagine what you like.” 

She was busily hiding away every trace of it as 
she spoke, while Florence watched her with honestly 
inquisitive eyes. 

That evening, while undressing for the night. 
Miss Farthingall suddenly paused in the untying 
of a string, and smiled radiantly at the wall oppo- 
site. 

I have it I ” she exclaimed aloud in her delight. 

That will certainly be the best way ! ” 

On the table beside her lay that same narrow 
green ribbon which had to-day attracted Florence’s 
attention; suspended to it was a tiny leather bag, made 
out of an old glove, and containing the one banknote 
which Miss Farthingall at this moment possessed. To 
carry the bulk of her small store of money thus about 
on her person was an old habit of hers, born of years 


60 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


of wandering, and of the caution learnt in unsafe cor- 
ners of the earth. 

With eager eyes and bright cheeks, she now ran 
to the battered trunk which stood in the corner of 
the room, and, having unlocked it, sat down in her 
petticoats on the floor to examine its contents. There 
was not much inside except heelless stockings and 
coverless books, but everything was so mixed up that 
several minutes passed before, with a satisfled ex- 
clamation, she drew out an old cigarbox, tied up firmly 
crosswise with twine. The knots proving unmanage- 
able, and no scissors being at hand, the schoolmistress 
had recourse to her teeth, which luckily proved as 
sharp as they were white and even. The open lid re- 
vealed a small medley of nondescript objects, in which 
•packets of letters and crackly things in crumpled en- 
velopes — which may possibly have been dried flowers 
— composed the chief elements. The -first thing 
which came into Miss FarthingalFs hand as she felt 
about in the box was something carefully wrapped up 
in tissue paper, something round and hard — as, for in- 
stance, a ring might be round and hard — but tliis she 
thrust back again quickly, with what looked almost 
like a shudder. A few more seconds’ search brought 
to light a flat silver locket, with a carbuncle star upon 
it. Still squatting on the floor. Miss Farthingall 
pressed the spring, and then sat for several minutes 
immovable, gazing fixedly at what she saw within. 
Various changes passed over her face as she looked, 
and it was with a long-drawn, feverishly heavy sigh, 
that at last she rose to her feet. 

The rest of her task was easy — only to remove the 
leather money-bag from the green ribbon, to lock it 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


61 


away in the trunk, and then to slip the silver locket on 
to its place. 

Yes; that will certainly he the best way/’ she 
repeated to herself, as, with a deep breath of satis- 
faction, she at length laid her head on the pillow. 

The next time she met the schoolmistress, and 
again the next, Florence, being on the look-out, suc- 
ceeded in catching passing glimpses of the green rib- 
bon, and with each glimpse the conviction grew that 
here lay the clue to the secret. But, in face of the 
anxiety with which Miss Farthingall tucked away the 
tell-tale strip whenever its edge slipped beyond her 
neck-band, she could not find the courage to refer to 
the matter again. 

Another week had almost gone past, when, one 
afternoon, Florence appeared with a radiant face at 
the schoolhouse, rather to Miss FarthingalPs surprise, 
for it had not ceased raining since morning. 

I am come to say good-bye in a sort of sense,” 
she explained. That is to say, I am afraid — no, I 
mean I hope — I shall be a good deal occupied next 
week, and so I thought I would spend an hour or two 
with you to-day, because, you see, Louis is coming 
back the day after to-morrow,” she finished, laughing 
and blushing in sheer delight. 

Miss Farthingall had been placing a chair for her 
guest. She turned round quickly now. 

The day after to-morrow?” she asked in an 
almost startled tone. Already? ” 

Do you call it already? I call it at last. Why, 
he’s been away for nearly three weeks.” 

‘‘ To be sure, I forgot,” said Miss Farthingall, re- 
covering herself. To you, of course, it must appear 


62 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


an age. Well, I must make tlie most of you while 
I have you. Let me see — where shall we have tea? 
She appeared to reflect for a moment. I think it 
had better be in my little room to-day. It is rather 
chilly in here on wet days. Only wait one minute, 
please, while I put on something warmer; I have been 
shivering all the morning in this cotton tiling.^’ 

She was gone for about flve minutes, and then 
returned to fetch her guest. 

You will excuse me, of course, while I see about 
the tea,’’ she said sweetly, at the door of her bedroom. 

Please make yourself comfortable meanwhile — if 
you can.” 

Florence, entering alone, looked shyly about her. 
She had not been in here since the day of her flrst 
visit, when she had carried away with her so dreary 
a picture of the disordered apartment. To-day the 
place was so far in order that the bed was made, and 
that there were no empty breakfast things on the 
table ; but even as it was, the room, with its thin scrap 
of a carpet, its washed-out window-curtain and the 
rain streaming on the panes so thickly as to shut out 
the view, presented an aspect quite capable of depress- 
ing sensitive nerves. Upon a row of nails on the wall 
most of Miss Farthingall’s wardrobe was suspended. 
Florence could not help seeing the torn lining and the 
fringed-out hems, but so determined was she to be 
pleased with the wearer of those dresses that, instead 
of awakening any feeling of disapprobation, these de- 
tails only stirred her pity anew. The cotton dress 
which had just been taken off still hung over a chair- 
back — tidiness was evidently not the schoolmistress’s 
strongpoint — ^^but then, who knows if I would be tidy 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


63 


myself/^ reflected Florence, if I had to keep my own 
things in order! ’’ 

The table bore further evidence to this failing of 
Miss Farthingall. Although the tea would have to 
be served there in a few minutes, it was at this mo- 
ment still littered with books and papers, as well as 
with what had probably been the contents of her 
pocket at the moment she changed her dress. 
Florence’s glance passed over it all, with a timid, 
shrinking interest. Then she turned away and sat 
down, and began to think of the day after to-morrow. 

Presently she roused herself to the observation 
that Miss Farthingall was taking a long time to get 
the tea ready. Surely she had been away for quite 
a quarter of an hour, and it was late, at any rate, to- 
day. Florence rose and went to the window, but 
there was nothing to be seen through the streaming 
pane. Then she came back to the table, and idly 
took up one of the books that lay there. In doing so 
she caught sight of something which caused her to 
stiffen into attention. Among the books and the 
papers there was a green ribbon lying, of exactly the 
shade of the one which she had seen on the schoolmis- 
tress’s neck. She took it up quickly, and saw that there 
hung upon it a small and somewhat battered silver 
locket, ornamented with a star in carbuncles. The 
matter was quite plain. While changing her dress 
Miss Farthingall had pulled this off, by mistake, prob- 
ably, and then, in her haste, had left it lying on the 
table. Florence, realizing the situation, coloured 
with excitement. A locket was exactly the thing she 
had expected to see suspended by that ribbon, and in 
the locket there would doubtless be the portrait of the 


64 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


faithless man whom she had vowed to bring to justice. 
To be sure, there was no more than the shadow of a 
chance of her being able to give a name to the face, 
but even to see it was something. For just one second 
she hesitated, but the temptation was too great, the 
chance too extraordinary. 

It’s her own fault,” she said aloud, in order to 
convince herself that she was doing nothing to be 
ashamed of; I gave her fair warning.” And then, 
somewhat guiltily, she touched the spring of the 
locket. 

But the guilty feeling passed immediately. She 
had evidently made a mistake, after all. Here had 
she been prepared to see the features of poor Miss 
Farthingall’s faithless lover, whereas, instead of this, 
she found herself gazing on the face of her own faith- 
ful Louis. The real understanding of the situation 
could not come to her in the first minute, — for that, 
the two ideas lay too far apart. So far from suspect- 
ing the truth was she, that, in the very first instant, 
an exclamation of pleasure had escaped her at sight 
of the beloved face. In the second instant, indeed, 
she felt confused and even perplexed, but not precisely 
alarmed. How did this come to be here? And was 
it really Louis? 

She carried the locket to the window and looked 
at it more closely. Yes; of that there could be no 
doubt. In her recollection at home — the Louis 
Gallery,” as her father had nicknamed it, and which 
showed the young baronet in various stages of his ex- 
istence, beginning with petticoat days and ending with 
the latest London cabinet ” — she had the duplicate 
of this. It was a comparatively modern portrait, dat- 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


65 


ing from some half-dozen years back, when he wore a 
different shape of moustache, but it was much more 
faded than her own copy. 

She was still standing at the window in deep per- 
plexity when the door opened to admit Miss Farthing- 
all and the tea-tray. Florence never thought of look- 
ing round until she heard a sharp exclamation behind 
her. In the same instant the tea-tray was put down 
anyhow on the table, and the schoolmistress, starting 
forward, snatched the open locket from her hand. 

Then only she began slowly to understand — to 
understand, but not yet to believe. The colour ebbed 
gradually from her cheeks, as she turned and looked 
at Miss Farthingall with dazed, questioning eyes. 

The other had sunk down on a chair and covered 
her face with her hands. The fatal green ribbon was 
still visible between her fingers. 

It is my own fault,’’ she answered. I never 
meant to let you know — never! And now my care- 
lessness has done it! ” 

‘‘ Yfliai did you not mean to let me know? ” 

This — this unhappy secret. Oh ! do you not 
see now that I had to be silent? ” 

Florence still stared incredulously. It was too diffi- 
cult to believe without warning, too hard to identify 
those two separate people — the wretch who had be- 
trayed Miss Farthingall, and the chivalrous and high- 
minded Louis, her Louis — as one and the same indi- 
vidual. 

Do you mean to say,” she asked, after a mo- 
ment’s desperate grappling with the problem — do 
you mean to say that it is /lef ” 

^AVould you believe me if I denied it now?^^ asked 


66 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Miss Fartliingall, in a stifled voice. She had buried 
her face now on the back of the chair. You know 
that I never meant to speak, but chance has been too 
strong for me; and you know alsp that I do not pre- 
tend to have any claims, that I have long been re- 
signed ’’ 

That is not the question,’’ interrupted Florence, 
in a voice so harsh that it surprised herself. The 
question is — Is this man, of whom you have spoken 
to me as your betrayer, the same man whose portrait 
you have in this locket? Is his name Sir Louis Ilep- 
burne? ” 

The schoolmistress buried her face a little deeper 
without answering. 

Answer me! ” said Florence, in a tone of com- 
mand quite new to Miss Farthingall’s ears. 

Yes,” she murmured, with a rising feeling of 
surprise. 

And it was because of him that you left Eng- 
land for Australia flve years ago? ” 

Yes.” 

That is all I want to know. I think I had bet- 
ter be going now. I suppose the pony-carriage is 
outside? ” 

The schoolmistress got up hastily. You are not 
going already? ” she asked in obvious consternation. 

You are not going to — do anything? ” 

I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think yet.” 

It was in order to be able to think that she felt 
the urgent need of being alone immediately. She 
had already remembered that Louis had a batch of 
Scotch cousins somewhere in the North, that he had 
spoken of his visits to them. She had remembered 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


67 


also how Miss Farthingall had recognized his photo- 
graph on the mantlepiece — the pieces were beginning 
to fit into each other. Probably other things would 
occur to her, if only she could manage to think it out. 

You must not go without forgiving me for my 
unfortunate carelessness/’ Miss Farthingall was say- 
ing. It is that which bears the whole fault. Am 
I to lose your friendship as well as everything else? ” 
She came towards Florence with outstretched 
hands as she spoke; but Florence shrank away. 

I tell you that I know nothing. I must first 
collect my thoughts a little. Will you be so kind as 
to see whether the pony-carriage is at the door? ” 

Miss Farthingall gave her a quick glance of alarm. 
The new haughtiness of the tone touched her like 
cold water. 

And you will not even have a cup of tea before 
your wet drive? ” she ventured, almost diffidently. 

No, thank you; I don’t require any tea. I have 
told you that I am going at once.” 

In silence the schoolmistress followed her guest 
to the door. There was a frown of perplexity on her 
face as she watched the pony-carriage crossing the 
bridge, under whose grey arches the swollen waters 
rolled dark and yellow. 

Up to this moment the game had been entirely 
in her hand; she had been able to foresee almost 
every turn it would take. Now for the first time she 
felt baffied. There had been something in Florence’s 
manner to-day which she had not foreseen. It was not 
exactly in this way that she had expected her to face 
the discovery. Some element was here on which she 
had not counted. Did it mean victory or defeat? 


CHAPTEE VII. 

THE TRYST. 

It was between the entre and the joint that even- 
ing that Florence abruptly asked her father — 

What is the name of those cousins of Louis’s 
who live in Scotland? ” 

‘‘ The Macallans? What makes you think of 
them just now? ” 

They happened to come into my head. Does 
Louis visit them often? ” 

Never, except in the grouse season, I believe.” 
There are daughters, are there not? ” 

“ Yes; but that needn’t make you feel uneasy,” 
said Mr. Crossley, with a tenderly sly smile. 

They’re scarcely out of the schoolroom yet.” 

But they’ve got governesses, I suppose? ” 

Yes, and a pack of trouble they bring. One 
of them eloped last year with the bailiff, and another 
one — let me see, what was the story about the other 
one? Ah, to be sure, it was that rascal Louis himself 
who was a trifle gone upon her, I believe. I remem- 
ber his father mentioning the subject in a letter; but 
that was before he had seen you, mind.” And the old 
gentleman smiled fondly and proudly into his daugh- 
ter’s face. 


68 


THE TRYST. 


69 


She responded with a blank stare, while she felt 
her hands growing cold. It tallied too horribly well. 
After that she forgot to speak for a time. All she 
was aware of as yet was the necessity of disentangling 
her ideas and coming to some sort of conclusion before 
her meeting with Louis. Two nights and one day lay 
between her and that moment. Her father must not 
guess anything, she told herself, until she knew what 
she was going to do, and as yet she had no idea; but, 
despite all her efforts to keep up conversation, she 
found herself for ever relapsing into the same train of 
thought. Was it actually possible? Could Louis, 
who was so noble, so absolutely high-minded, haye 
acted in the way described? But, immediately upon 
this question, there followed another — IF%, after all, 
had she taken for granted that he was both noble and 
high-minded? What did she know of him beyond his 
face and his protestations of love? Looking at the 
matter closely now, she was forced to acknowledge to 
herself that, though he was her future husband, he 
really was a stranger to her. Six weeks ago she had 
seen him for the first time, and of these he had been 
out of her sight for three. That first meeting had been 
so decisive, the brief courtship so headlong in its im- 
petuosity, that she had never had time to recover her 
breath, as it were, never had the chance of examining 
this man with the coolly critical .gaze with which we 
measure our acquaintances; he had, in fact, never 
been an acquaintance, having, from a stranger, stepped 
straight into the place of a lover. For anything she 
positively knew, he might possess a whole score of the 
very blackest qualities allotted to mankind. Well, 
and supposing it were so 


70 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


She awoke to the fact that her father was gazing 
at her inquiringly across the table. 

You are certainly very low to-night, child. 
Probably you caught cold this afternoon. Nobody 
but you would have thought of going out in this 
weather. Or are you, perhaps, fretting because of 
that business in the village? ’’ 

What business in the village? ’’ she asked, with 
an effort. 

What? Does Miss Providence actually not 
know that another of her matches has gone wrong? 
Hughes was here this afternoon with some rigma- 
role about that young couple whom you settled in the 
AVhite Cottage last winter. I forget whether it’s he 
who has been helping himself to her hair, or she 
who wanted to get at his eyes, but anyway, the battle 
seems to have been pretty hot.” 

I must see about it to-morrow,” said Florence, in 
something like her usual tone; but the light, scarcely 
risen to her eyes, went out again immediately. It 
was too difficult to take interest in other people’s 
affairs when her own were in such a desperate pre- 
dicament. 

The sight of dessert was a relief scarcely to be 
awaited. 

There will be more colour in those cheeks the 
day after to-morrow at this time,” said Mr. Crossley, 
with a twinkle in his eye, as she passed him on her 
way to the door. 

Perhaps,” she said, trying bravely to smile. 

Would there?” she asked herself, alone in the 
drawing-room. What would have happened by the 
day after to-morrow at this time? It all depended 


THE TRYST. 


71 


upon what she decided, and of course she must decide 
something soon. If only she could have an idea of 
what she was going to do ! 

The idea had not come to her when at length she 
found herself alone in her bedroom, free to do with 
the night hours what she liked. Now only did a real 
facing of the situation become possible. Something, 
indeed, had already occurred to her, but at first sight 
she had simply taken fright and looked away, and 
some little time passed before she had gathered 
strength to look again. 

Give him up? It seemed too impossible to be 
seriously thought of, and yet she found herself think- 
ing of it continually. Presently she had reached the 
point of asking herself whether, as matters now stood, 
she had even any further right to her lover. Her 
lover? Why, he was not her lover at all. Looked at 
by the light of these revelations, he was Miss Far- 
thingalFs lover, and it was that fair-haired little school- 
mistress — wasn’t her hair rather too fair, after all? — 
who had the prior claim. Had not she herself, while 
still ignorant of the culprit’s name, pleaded for an 
appeal to his betrothed wife, and argued that such an 
appeal could not be refused? And could the revela- 
tion of the name alter anything in the situation? 

No, it could not, she told herself, while wfith 
clenched teeth she lay back on her pillow, staring, 
wide-eyed, at the ceiling of her room. And why, after 
all, should it be so hard to give him up, since he was a 
villain? He must be a villain if he had acted as 
Miss Farthingall described. And then her thoughts 
turned to the episode itself, which the schoolmistress’s 
broken narrative and scattered remarks had left 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


72 

shrouded in a certain becoming atmosphere of mys- 
tery, well calculated to heighten curiosity. What 
exact shade of blackness his villainy had reached she did 
not knoAt, and did not even care to know; he had 
wrecked this girl’s life through his fickleness, and, 
according to Florence’s code of justice, this was 
enough. 

The hours .passed, and she still lay there, intensely 
wide awake, Avith mind and memory Avorking at that 
high pressure Avhich is knoAvn only to sleepless nights. 
Picture chased picture in her feverish thoughts — 
Louis, as she had first set eyes on him; the small dis- 
tant figure on the Stonefield Road, which had after- 
Avards became Miss Farthingall; her father’s anxious 
face looking at her across the dinner-table last night; 
Louis giving her the farewell kiss on the terrace (Avas 
it to be the last she Avas ever to get?) ; the green ribbon 
lying on the table among the books. Here her 
thoughts stood still for a moment. Was it in that 
dark Avretched hole of a room that the woman who 
had been Louis’s first love was to go on dragging out 
her existence, while she herself, by virtue of his fickle- 
ness, lived alongside, bedded in the luxury of his 
proud home? The thought Avas unbearable, not so 
much because her heart felt soft tOAvards Miss Far- 
thingall — strangely enough it did not feel nearly so 
soft towards her personally as it had felt, say, this 
time yesterday — but simply because it was a crying 
injustice. 

Suddenly, without warning, another picture stood 
before her — the gaunt haggard face and fierce blue 
eyes of Mrs. Gillett. You, too, Avill have to be the 
misfortune of some one or other, be sure of that! ” 


THE TRYST. 


IS 

The words sounded in her ears as though she had 
heard them only yesterday. Your share of luck is 
too big for one person, therefore, some one else will 
have to pay for it.’^ And when she had asked how 
this could be, the answer had been, Perhaps you will 
get a fortune which some other person expects, or 
perhaps the man you love will be loved by another 
woman, whose heart will break when he marries you. 
Anyway, it is sure to be.’^ 

But it shall not be! said Florence in her heart. 
Something of the childish, almost superstitious awe 
with which every utterance of her old nurse had filled 
her, had come over her now in the silence and solitude 
of the night. It seemed to her almost as though she 
were again staring through the fender-bars at the 
glowing nursery fire, as though the very refiection of 
the red coals must be on her face. 

This was the woman who had to pay for her own 
over-great share of luck; in one moment it had become 
clear to her. 

But it shall not be ! she said again, repeating 
the words aloud; and, a few minutes later, she had 
fallen into exhausted sleep. At last she knew what 
she was going to do. 

That evening, at dinner, Mr. Crossley had no 
reason to complain either of his daughter’s want of 
colour or of her silence. Her cheeks were so bright, 
and her tongue so ready, that a more observant person 
might possibly have discovered a slightly feverish 
element in her gaiety. Depression and bewilder- 
ment had given place to that dash of intoxication which 
almost invariably accompanies any decisive resolution, 
regardless of its nature and consequences. The effort 


74 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


required to string lierself up to the point reached had 
acted as a stimulant upon her nerves, to the extent 
of quite drowning for the time the sense of suffering. 
It certainly did strike Mr. Crossley that Flo’s eyes 
were shining in a rather unusual manner, but that was 
easily explained by the circumstances. 

‘^To-morrow!” he said tenderly, while pressing 
her hand at parting, and wondering to feel i": so hot. 

Yes, to-morrow!” repeated Florence, with a 
smile which dazzled him, but which he could not 
quite understand. 

She had arranged even the details of her plan by 
now. Early next morning she despatched a groom 
on horseback with a note to Sir Louis, who, as she 
knew, would have reached home late at night. Sir 
Louis smiled blissfully as he read it. He was re- 
quested to meet her that afternoon between three and 
four — this was urgently necessary, etc. What an 
unnecessary trouble to take! Did she really suppose 
that he was waiting for an invitation? And why be 
so particular about the hour? 

As three o’clock approached, Florence sat rigid 
in her room. The colour was gone from her set lips, 
and her heart was beating at an insupportable rate. 
There wanted only ten minutes to the hour, when the 
consciousness seized her that the thing could not hap- 
pen here. The sight of the four walls stifled her, and, 
besides, it was not safe — they might be overheard. 
Springing to her feet, she snatched up a hat, and al- 
most ran from the house, leaving a message for Sir 
Louis, who would find her in the Long Walk. 

The Long Walk began quite close to the house, 
and cut right through the park, plunging deep into 


THE TRYST. 


Y5 


its more thickly wooded part, and running the whole 
time as straight as an avenue. Indeed, it had been an 
avenue at one time, but had fallen into disuse as an 
approach. Its once sharply defined double line of oaks 
had gradually melted into the mixed forest of ash trees 
and birches springing up all around, while the en- 
croaching sward had drawn a broad green band down 
each side of the reduced road, on which no carriage 
wheels had left their mark for fifty years past. Twi- 
light reigned here even at midday, and, owing to the 
absence of turns, any approaching person could be 
seen from afar. No better place could be chosen for 
an interview, which not improbably might turn out 
rather stormy. Florence told herself this as she 
reached the massive wooden seat, which had been fash- 
ioned from one of the fallen oaks of the old avenue, 
and which had been her goal, for the Long Walk ended 
in a cul de sac, A disused gate, wrapped just now in 
a cloak of white bindweed in full bloom, rose at a few 
paces^ distance, barring the passage to the outer park. 

Here she sat down and waited, with her eyes on 
the long expanse of walk she had just traversed. Yes; 
this was the right place. It was very hot and very 
still here just now; the thick ranks of trees stood mo- 
tionless, except when from time to time a light puff 
of air swept through the wood. There would be dead 
silence in one moment; in the next she could hear 
from afar the light rustle of the approaching breeze, 
and could watch one tree after another being caught, 
until those close at hand were in motion, only to sink 
again, one by one, back into repose. Sometimes it 
would be one single birch that was touched by a stray 
breath of air, and shivered audibly as though in the 


76 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


cold fit of a fever, all its sensitive leaves in motion, 
while an oak tree beside it stood immovable in its 
majesty. Summer sights and summer sounds were 
all around. Deep down in the warm grasses the grass- 
hoppers were chirping shrilly; white butterflies cir- 
cled round the white bindweed on the old gate, mak- 
ing it look as though half the blossoms had taken 
wing; on the green borders of the walk pink-headed 
grasses drooped with each breath of air into new and 
wonderful patterns, crossing and recrossing each 
other’s slender stems in every imaginable curve and 
at every imaginable angle. Presently the cloud of 
butterfiies dispersed in affright; a cow had put its 
sleepy brown head over the gate, and looked at 
Florence inquiringly, as though asking her what it 
was she was waiting for. 

She had sat for scarcely five minutes when far off 
on the straight walk she saw Louis coming along under 
the trees, and — so hard is it to get rid of the habit of 
happiness — her heart leapt at the sight. But the 
next moment it had sunk down, heavy as a stone. 

To be sure; I forgot,” she murmured to herself 
apologetically. 

Instinctively she had half risen to meet him; but 
at that thought she sank down again, and sat waiting 
for his approach in a mixture of terror and of desper- 
ate hope. Perhaps, after all, it was all a mistake; per- 
haps there was another Sir Louis Hepburne in the 
world who had committed these atrocities. The wild- 
est surmises shot through her mind during the last 
seconds of suspense. Seeing him again made it so much 
more difficult to believe in his guilt. 


CHAPTER VIIL 

IN THE LONG WALK. 

In her plan it had been settled that she was going 
to behave with the greatest reserve at the moment 
of meeting; but when the moment came she suddenly 
found herself in Louis’s arms, returning his strong 
kisses with a vehemence of which she had never sus- 
pected herself. It was wicked, of course, consider- 
ing what she meant to do. She was aware of it the 
whole time, but it was impossible to prevent; and 
probably it was for the last time,” she told herself by 
way of stifling conscience. 

Sweetheart ! My little one ! ” was all that Sir 
Louis could say during that first breathless minute. 
He had expected to see her excited, of course, but he 
had not expected to see her like this. He felt that 
he was being kissed in the way that women kiss their 
lovers, or mothers their sons, when they start for the 
wars, and he could not understand why this should 
be so. 

The idea of first sending me a polite invitation, 
and then running away from me to the end of the 
park,” he began laughingly, as soon as he was able.' 

What will you be up to next, child? All this sort 
of thing is far too solemn for my taste.” 

77 


78 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


It wouldn’t have done in the house/’ said 
Florence, abruptly letting go her hold upon his arm, 
and with a supreme effort recovering some of her com- 
posure. . 

But you did send for me, did you not? ” 

Of course I did. I have sent for you, Louis, 
to ask you a question.” 

A question that couldn’t be asked in the house? 
This is becoming more and more mysterious! May 
I answer it sitting? ” 

She had already taken her place on the bench; 
but as he followed her example, he saw her shrink 
away nervously from his vicinity, and understood 
the movement as little as he had understood the pas- 
sionate vehemence of her greeting. The intensity 
with which she now turned her eyes upon him was a 
fresh surprise. 

Tell me, Louis,” she began, doing her best to 
keep her voice steady; tell me truly, do you know 
any person called Miss Farthingall? ” 

The moment of suspense that followed was so 
torturing that she bit her underlip till the blood came, 
without noticing it. There was no breeze under way 
just then, so that even the birches stood motionless, 
and the only thing that broke the perfect silence of the 
summer afternoon was the gentle sound of munching 
from the old gate over there, where the brown cow was 
feeding at leisure upon the leaves of creeping plants. 

At sound of the name just pronounced, Florence’s 
jealously watching eyes saw something like a flash 
of recollection pass over her lover’s face. lie drew 
his brows together, and appeared to be thinking. 

^^Farthingall?” he repeated, after an endless 


IN THE LONG WALK. 79 

half-minute. Yes, surely I know the name. I’ll 
have it in a moment, if you’ll only give me time.” 

Think of Scotland! ” 

Scotland! why, bless my heart, wasn’t Far- 
thingall the name of the Macallans’ governess? ” 

Then you admit it? ” cried Florence, in a quick 
tone of agony. The last shred of hope was gone; 
there was no mistake, after all; no other Sir Louis 
Ilepburne in the question. 

Admit what? What are you talking about, 
Florence?” 

I am talking about a cruel wrong that has been 
done to a helpless girl. Oh, it was a good thing that 
you went away, Louis, otherwise I might never have 
found out what sort of a man you really are.” 

And hereupon, in a voice that shook with badly 
suppressed excitement, with quivering lips and shin- 
ing eyes, she told him the schoolmistress’s story almost 
in one breath, setting forth the sufferings she had 
undergone, dwelling on her immovable fidelity and 
undying affection; and, on the strength of these facts, 
courageously pleading her cause. 

Sir Louis listened in profound astonishment. He 
had almost forgotten the face of the Macallans’ pretty 
governess, who had made that dead set at him five 
years ago, and certainly he had had no idea that his 
somewhat desultory attentions at that time had com- 
promised the girl to anything like this extent. It 
scarcely sounded likely that her reputation should 
have suffered as badly as all this; but he admitted to 
himself that it was not quite impossible. Heither had 
he ever flattered himself that she still remembered his 
existence. Undying affection, eternal fidelity — some- 


80 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Ilow she liadnh — looked like that sort of thing; it put 
the half-forgotten matter into quite a new and not 
particularly agreeable light, all the less agreeable be- 
cause of her having turned up again in this awkward 
manner at his very gates. In the story which Flor- 
ence was telling him he figured as a full-blown villain, 
and yet — although he did not recognize himself in the 
portrait — there was no single point which he could 
put his finger on as an absolute lie. The facts were 
more or less right; it was only the colouring put upon 
them that was all wrong; the lights required to be 
shifted, that was all. It was not that that disturbed 
him, so much as the idea of having made such a deep 
impression against his will; the discovery was dis- 
tinctly unwelcome, and yet he must have been either 
more or less than a man if it had failed to touch both 
his vanity and his feelings. 

Poor girl! was all he said, when Florence at 
length drew breath. 

Why do you tell me all this now? ’’ he asked, 
having sat thoughtful for some moments. 

Because, of course, all is over between us now. 
I could never marry a man who by rights belongs 
to another woman.’’ 

The momentary emotion passed from his face, 
leaving it a trifle grim in expression. 

In other words: you want to give me up? ” 

It’s not a question of wanting; I have no 
choice.” 

And you imagine that by giving me up you will 
force me to marry Miss Farthingall? I suppose you 
think that you can settle my affairs for me as easily 
as you settle those of your village p7'oteges. Has 


IN THE LONG WALK. 


81 


it not occurred to you that two are required for a bar- 
gain? ’’ 

Apparently it had not occurred to Florence. It 
was characteristic of her that, having once decided 
upon her own course of action, she should regard the 
rest of the matter as clenched. 

Do you want me to understand that Miss Far- 
thingall actually has the face to claim me as a hus- 
band? asked Sir Louis, with an ominous light in his 
eyes. 

Oh no, Louis,’’ Florence hastened to explain, 
afraid of having placed the matter in a false light. 

She claims nothing at all. It was I who got her to 
tell me her story, quite against her will, and even then 
nothing could induce her to tell me the name; it was 
by a mere chance that I found it out, and she was just 
awfully distressed.” 

Hum — now, look here, Florence, you have had 
your say, and now it is my turn to talk. I see that 
you are a good deal excited, so I will let some of the 
expressions you have used pass muster. I am not 
dreaming of denying my acquaintance with Miss Far- 
thingall, and I admit that I found her very pretty in 
those days, and let her see that I thought so, but even 
your version of the story has not convinced me that 
I’m a blackguard. You always tell me that I’m too 
matter of fact for your taste ; perhaps that is the reason 
why I cannot for the life of me catch the sense of my 
supposed guilt. Every man goes through a dozen 
flirtations before he comes to anchor, and if I were ex- 
pected, to marry every pretty girl I have made pretty 
speeches to in my life, why, I would need a harem to 
keep them in.” 


82 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


This is dreadful ! ’’ murmured Florence, in 
genuine consternation. She was at the age at which 
one takes for granted that the man of one’s choice has 
been stone-blind to every other female fellow-creature 
all along. 

It is not nearly so dreadful as you suppose. I 
don’t pretend to have been a saint, but I suppose you 
will believe me when I tell you that ‘my code of hon- 
our hasn’t as much as a crack in it so far.” 

It is evident that our codes do not agree.” 

There exists no code which can make of a harm- 
less flirtation a capital offence. That business with 
Miss Farthingall was nothing more.” 

That is what men always say when they are 
called to account,” replied Florence, with the con- 
viction of eighteen. 

And what do women say on these occasions? ” 
asked Sir Louis, and then stopped short abruptly. 
This would have been the right moment for shifting 
the lights, but no, hang it all, it wouldn’t be fair play. 
Nothing would have been easier than to speak of the 
inviting glances which had flrst turned his youthful 
head, and to describe the playful ambushes laid for 
him by his little cousins’ fair-haired governess; but — 
the girl might be an arrant flirt; she certainly had 
given him that impression in former days — but it 
would never do to tell tales. Besides, even should 
he descend to that, would he be believed? 

Women are always the victims,” was Florence’s 
ready reply. 

You seem to have learnt a lot since I went 
away,” he said with a laugh which was only half 
angry. 


IN THE LONG WALK. 


83 


As yet he could not manage to take the matter 
quite seriously, as to feel alarmed by the announce- 
ment of her resolution — it seemed too preposterous 
that a few weeks of boyish foolishness long ago should 
bear so bitter a harvest. Despite the short acquaint- 
ance, he knew her pretty w^ell, and he made the mis- 
take of believing that he knew her quite well. This 
was just one of her quixotically romantic fancies which 
would, of course, yield to reason. Acting on this 
conviction, he now began to argue with her indeed, 
but as one argues with a child, patiently, yet with a 
touch of that superiority of tone which betrays a half- 
tender, half-amused depreciation of the other’s point 
of view, and which is so peculiarly irritating to some 
temperaments. Had he been such a connoisseur in 
women as Florence evidently suspected him of being, 
he would not have argued at all, but only protested — 
on his knees, if necessary, and, ten to one, the battle 
would have been his, but being too conscientious to 
rely entirely upon an appeal to her feelings, and con- 
sidering himself bound to remove her scruples, he 
blundered into directing his appeal to her reason in- 
stead, with the result that Florence’s face grew harder, 
minute by minute, as she listened, while all the an- 
swer she made was — 

It cannot be — you don’t belong to me ! ” 

Within herself she wondered to find him so 
brazen-faced ; she had expected to see him confounded 
by his guilty conscience, but, of course, this only 
showed what a hardened wrong-doer he was. 

My husband must be an honourable man! ” she 
burst out at length in a moment of irritation, hard 
pressed by his persistence. 


84 : 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Take care! was his answer, in a voice which 
she had not heard before, while his face darkened for 
the first time since the beginning of the interview. 

Even though you are my future wife, that is no 
especial reason for insulting me.’^ 

I am not your future wife,’’ she murmured sul- 
lenly, though the change of tone and mien fright- 
ened her a little. 

We shall see about that. I am not yet aware 
of having released you from your engagement.” 

You cannot marry me against my will.” 

I fancy that I shall be able to do so with your 
will yet.” 

I have told you that it cannot be.” 

And you imagine that I shall accept that as your 
last word? ” 

It is my last word.” 

Sir Louis folded his arms and frowned thought- 
fully at the gravel. The matter really was a little 
puzzling. 

Look here, Florence,” he began after a pause, 
which again had only been filled by the steady munch- 
ing of the cow, I absolutely decline to abide by this 
conclusion to-day. You are acting on some absurd 
impulse which, although it does every honour to your 
heart, does not speak quite so highly for your head. 
A week’s reflection will probably bring you to your 
senses. At the end of that time I shall accept your 
decision, whatever it is; but, mind, it must be final. 
I.am not very fond of being played fast and loose with, 
and be sure you don’t imagine that you can dismiss 
me one day and recall me the next. When you have 
made your choice, you must abide by it.” 


IN THE LONG WALK. 


85 


I have made it already; why wait a whole 

week? 

Because only on this condition will I give you 
back your word. And I also make the further con- 
dition that the matter remain between ourselves until 
then. No one, not even your father, is to suspect 
that any change is being contemplated. And as for 
my mother — the look of trouble deepened on his 
face — there is nothing for it but to avoid a meeting 
between you and her — for one week this will be man- 
ageable; she will require a day or two, at any rate, 
to recover from the journey.’’ 

But the other people — how are they not to sus- 
pect? It will be like playing a farce, and I can’t act 
a bit.” 

You must just do your best, and I shall keep out 
of your way, if you like, as much as I can. Anyway, 
these are my conditions — do you agree to them? ” 

Yes,” said Florence, a little doubtfully. 

She would have liked to protest against the un- 
necessary delay, but Louis had relapsed into that strange 
tone, the sort of tone which one uses towards a child 
which is not only unreasonable, but also unruly. She 
knew instinctively that if she refused he would get 
angry, and she had never seen him angry yet, and felt 
that she would rather not. 

This day week, ^then,” he remarked in an en- 
tirely final tone. And at this hour. Where shall 
it be?” 

Florence looked about her. 

Let it be here again. Nobody can listen.” 

Very well: the same hour and the same place. 
And now I suppose we had better be getting back to 


86 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


the house, and together, too, in case we are seen from 
the windows.’’ 

The Long Walk had never appeared so long to 
Florence as it did that day while she traversed it in 
silence by the side of her silent lover. In her heart 
she felt that this was the beginning of the farce. 


CHAPTEE IX. 


THE SCHOOL FEAST. 

Sir Louis found his promise of keeping out of 
Florence’s way most inconvenient in practice — never- 
theless he stuck to it — for not only had he promised, 
but also he was of opinion, that there would be more 
chance of her coming to her senses if she was left to 
herself — allowed to sulk it out,” as he put it. By 
dint, therefore, of talking of his mother’s health, as 
well as of the business which had accumulated during 
his absence, he had reduced the meetings to two un- 
avoidable dinners at Heywood, which, owing to the 
fortunate presence of some other chance guests, had 
passed over without Mr. Crossley’s attention having 
been drawn to the greater reserve now reigning be- 
tween his daughter and her betrothed. 

Thus the sixth day of the farce ” had been suc- 
cessfully reached; but this day was destined to be the 
most trying of all for Florence. For nearly a cen- 
tury past the 1st of July — as the birthday of Cecil 
Crossley, the founder and generous patron of Hey- 
wood village school — had been the day fixed for the 
great school-feast, annually held in the grounds of 
Heywood Hall, and in which, by a habit which had 
become traditional, the neighbouring parish of Stone- 
87 


88 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


field invariably joined. There was nothing to be 
altered, either about the date or about the fact — both 
were inevitable. And it was inevitable, too, that Sir 
Louis, as the latest master of Stonefield, newly re- 
turned to the home of his ancestors, and about, more- 
over, to unite his lot to that of the future mistress of 
Heywood, should at least put in an appearance on the 
occasion. On the whole he did not much mind. 
This ridiculous farce would be played out to-morrow, 
at any rate, and he had no objection to meeting Flor- 
ence. He would also have to meet Miss Farthingall, 
that was clear; but even that was scarcely an objec- 
tion. Hitherto he had avoided the new schoolmis- 
tress so successfully as not even to have set eyes on her, 
although she lived at a stone^s throw from his win- 
dows; but, of course, he could not go on avoiding her 
for ever, and this was as good an opportunity as any 
other for getting over a meeting which, however in- 
•nocent he might feel himself, could not but be a trifle 
awkward. A crowd is known to be a help on these 
occasions. Besides, it was undeniable that he felt 
mildly curious. Since those revelations made in the 
Long Walk, it was only natural that his thoughts 
should have returned more than once to the picture 
drawn of the little governess’s unswerving devotion 
and bleeding heart. It was hard to believe, but it 
could not fail to be an interesting subject of specula- 
tion; and although he was not aware of wishing to 
find out the truth, he told himself that he probably 
would find it out whenever he saw her. 

Twelve o’clock was the hour settled for the gather- 
ing of the children in front of the Heywood school- 
house, but it was not until past two that Sir Louis 


THE SCHOOL FEAST. 


89 


stepped out of his dogcart at the door of the Hall. By 
this time the march round the village, as well as the 
religious part of the ceremony, was over, and the 
scene had been transferred to the park, where cloths 
had been spread on the grass, and some four hundred 
hungry children were falling tooth and nail on the 
mountains of buns and pyramids of mutton-pies pro- 
vided by the munificent but invisible Mr. Crossley, 
who, after a minute’s unavoidable appearance on the 
doorstep to the sound of ringing cheers — during which 
he only just managed not to stop his ears — had fied to 
the depths of his beloved study, which fortunately lay 
so far to the back of the straggly building, that even 
the brass band on the lawn sounded as harmless as a dis- 
tant barrel-organ, while the shrill hum of young voices 
might have been taken for the buzzing of summer 
gnats. 

The whole burden of hospitality lay on Florence’s 
shoulders, but it was one to which she was well used, 
and in which Mr. Hughes had supported her from 
time immemorial. It was on such occasions that the 
vicar’s extra large supply of Christian charity found 
its proper outlet, making the distributing of pies and 
the filling of glasses so intense a pleasure to him that 
there almost seemed a danger of his cheeks being 
cracked by the broadness of his smiles. His eyes 
seemed to be everywhere: not even the smallest child 
at the farthest end of the lawn could be in want of a 
bun without his darting to the rescue. If only he had 
not lost so much time in easing his anxiety with re- 
gard to everybody’s health, he would have been a more 
perfect helper still; nothing but Florence’s peremp- 
toriness prevented him from asking each of the 


90 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


four hundred schoolchildren separately, not only how 
he or she felt, but also whether his or her parents were 
in a fairly satisfactory state. Even as it was, he had 
already managed to ascertain the physical condition of 
every teacher of both schools, as well as of all the 
clerical personages present. 

With her adjutant beside her, Florence moved 
about from group to group. Her colour to-day was 
somewhat heightened, and, as she passed and repassed 
across the lawn, she never failed to glance towards the 
avenue. She knew that Louis was coming, and 
she knew that this was going to be the first meeting 
between him and Miss Earthingall. This was a great 
day in more senses than merely being the day of the 
school-feast. 

From over there, where a small white figure flitted 
backwards and forwards between the groups of Stone- 
field school-children, like a butterfly that scarcely 
skimmed the grass, there were other glances being 
thrown towards the avenue. The schoolmistress also 
knew who was expected, and likewise understood the 
significance of the occasion. This past week had been 
to her one of uncertainty and suspense, leaving her, 
up to this moment, completely in the dark as to Flor- 
ence's intentions. Since the day of her abrupt de- 
parture from the school-house. Miss Farthingall had 
not ceased to puzzle over her confidant’s change of 
manner, as well as over the cessation of her visits. To 
provoke an explanation would not be prudent, she 
felt, so there had been nothing for it but to wait pa- 
tiently for to-day, which, as she knew, must bring 
about a meeting, and would show her in one moment 
whether all was yet lost or not. 


THE SCHOOL FEAST. 


91 


It would have been hard to say which of two hearts 
was beating fastest as the dogcart at length drew up 
at the door. When picturing the scene, Florence had 
always seen herself advancing to meet Louis hand- 
in-hand with the schoolmistress, and saying, with a 
meaning glance, Louis, this is Miss Farthingall! ’’ 
— but it happened quite differently, for in the 
first place Miss Farthingall was away at the other 
end of the lawn, and in the second place she be- 
came aware that her courage was not equal to the 
occasion. 

Within a minute of having alighted, Louis was 
by her side. 

Give me that basket of sweet stuff, Hughes,’’ 
he gaily began, attempting to possess himself of the 
vicar’s burden. You may consider yourself off duty 
now, for of course this is my business.” 

Oh, dear Sir Louis, how are you? ” exclaimed 
Mr. Hughes, fervently, clinging with one hand to 
his basket, while with the other he wrung Sir Louis’s, 
are you certain you are quite well? ” 

Yes, quite; and strong enough to fight with 
you for those cakes, or whatever they are, if neces- 
sary.” 

What a comfort ! Must I really give him the 
basket. Miss Orossley? Am I dismissed? ” 

Nothing of the sort,” said Florence, a little stiffly. 
Thank you very much, Louis, but I am getting on 
very well with Mr. Hughes.” 

Is this to punish me for my tardiness? I posi- 
tively couldn’t get away sooner.” 

You know quite well that it isn’t that,” said 
Florence, steadily returning his gaze. It is simply 
7 


92 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


that I don’t need you. I daresay you can find em- 
ployment elsewhere.” 

I don’t mean to look for it, then. Why, what 
would people say if they saw me dancing attendance 
on any one but you? AVe must consider appearances, 
my dear Flo! ” 

He said it jestingly, in a tone calculated for Mr. 
Hughes’ ears, but with a glance of warning which 
was meant for her alone. 

She coloured angrily. It was exactly because 
she knew that her betrothed husband would be gen- 
erally expected to assist her in doing the honours 
of the feast, that she had wished to avoid this public 
exposure of an engagement which in her heart she 
considered null. 

After to-morrow there will be no more appear- 
ances to consider,” she said in a quick whisper, which 
reached him alone. 

He looked at her, momentarily startled, and for 
the first time it crossed his mind that the answer which 
he was to receive to-morrow in the Long Walk might 
possibly be different from the one he had been con- 
fidently expecting all the week. 

How do you mean that? ” he was beginning in 
the same tone, when Mr. Hughes made one of his sud- 
den darts forward, exclaiming at the top of his voice — 

Tarts, Miss Farthingall? Gooseberry-tarts? 
I’ve plenty of them here. Take them, by all means, 
and I’ll forage for myself.’’ 

Sir Louis and Florence turned at the same mo- 
ment, and there, close at hand, stood the little school- 
mistress, in her childishly simple white gown, her 
pale golden hair creeping out from under the brim 


THE SCHOOL FEAST 


93 


of the straw hat, while with a deprecating smile and 
pleading eyes, she held out her empty basket towards 
the vicar. 

This was the moment, then. Florence felt the 
angry colour dying out of her cheeks. 

— I believe you know Miss Farthingall,’’was all 
she managed to stammer, while a dense haze rose be- 
fore her eyes. 

She heard a vague murmur, and when the haze 
passed again she saw that Louis had replaced his hat 
on his head, and withdrawn the hand he had put out 
to meet Miss FarthingalFs timidly proffered fingers. 
The two were looking at each other in silence; he 
with a glance which might almost have been inter- 
preted as inimical, she with dilated blue eyes, in which 
various emotions, and among them most prominently 
surprise — a pleasurable and excited surprise — were 
broadly written. It was only for one second; in the 
next already the telltale eyes were dropped guiltily to 
the ground, while the owner waited submissively until 
she should be addressed. 

You have only been a short time in this part of 
the country, I believe,’’ began Sir Louis, a trifle grim- 
ly. I trust you do not find the Stonefield school- 
house too utterly uncomfortable. We shall be build- 
ing another one of these days.” 

Oh, it does very well,” was the modest reply, 
given in that gently resigned tone of voice which says 
quite plainly, Anything is good enough for me! ” 

And how about those gooseberry-tarts, Hughes?” 
inquired Sir Louis, who, despite his assumption 
of coolness, was not feeling entirely comfortable. 

Is it you or Miss Farthingall who is to have 


94 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


them? And is it yon or I who is to attend on Miss 
Crossley? You’ll have to make your choice between 
us, Florence! ” And he looked at her with laughing 
defiance. 

I have already told you that I mean to keep 
Mr. Hughes.” 

In that case you can’t do better than carry Miss 
Farthingall’s tarts for her. Here! I’ll give you up 
the basket on that condition.” 

Sir Louis bit his moustache, but of course there 
was nothing for it but to say Delighted ! ” The 
schoolmistress said nothing at all, and carefully kept 
her eyes on the ground. Thus, two minutes later, 
somewhat to his surprise. Sir Louis found himself 
tramping across the lawn by the side of the woman 
who claimed to have been his first love, and chained 
to her side by the basket of gooseberry-tarts on his 
arm. 

Florence tried hard not to look after them. Noth- 
ing could have happened more perfectly, she told her- 
self, and wondered why she did not feel more elated. 

It was not until half an hour later that she saw 
Louis again. By this time the feeding stage was over, 
and that of mere frolic had set in. Small high-toned 
voices rang back from the broad stems of the beeches, 
while the Heywood lawns were alive with clean pina- 
fores and happy, perspiring faces. The time had 
come for the stewards of the feast to rest and refresh 
themselves. Round the long table spread on the ter- 
race they slowly assembled, dropping in singly or in 
pairs, as they happened to get free. Miss Farthingall 
and Sir Louis were among the last to appear, and there 
being only two empty places remaining by this time, 


THE SCHOOL FEAST. 


95 


it appeared unavoidable that he should sit by her side. 
This again was an arrangement almost as perfect as 
it could be, but again it brought a pang to Florence’s 
illogical heart. She was not aware of the strain of 
anxiety in her eyes as' she looked across the table to 
where Sir Louis was still standing beside the last 
empty chair, doubtfully pulling his moustache, and 
apparently not in the best of tempers. At that mo- 
ment he was probably contemplating an abrupt with- 
drawal from the scene, but that look of Florence’s de- 
cided him, by putting a sudden idea into his head. 
She evidently didn’t like the notion of his sitting be- 
side Miss Farthingall; very well, then, he would pun- 
ish her by doing it — she deserved it richly for her 
treatment of him that afternoon. And without giv- 
ing himself time for further reflection, he took the 
vacant chair, and asked Miss Farthingall, with un- 
necessary earnestness, whether she wanted sugar in 
her tea. Had any one been watching, it might have 
been noticed that at the moment of his decision Flor- 
ence’s face had grown a shade paler, and that of the 
schoolmistress a trifle pinker than the heat of the July 
sun had yet succeeded in making them. Every one 
else present showed signs of feeling the temperature; 
the white waistcoat of Mr. Ward, the parish doctor, 
was heaving portentously, while the vicar exhaustedly 
but smilingly polished his shining crown with an ex- 
tra large handkerchief, and the curates sat by, moist 
and limp from their recent efforts. Even Florence 
looked tired; Miss Farthingall alone was cool and 
fresh to look at. 

In her heart of hearts Miss Ward ascribed this 
equality of complexion to powder. The doctor’s sister 


96 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


was a spinster of uncertain age, known in the neigh- 
bourhood as the Tiger-Lily,’’ the latter part of which 
nickname she owed to the fact of having been baptised 
Lilian, the first part to her temper, which was known 
to belong to the bellicose order. If to a tiger-lily she 
could be likened, however, it could only be to one 
after a peculiarly long drought, for Miss Ward be- 
longed to that particular class of old maids who give 
the impression that, although when tickled they may 
possibly laugh, they would, if pricked, certainly not 
bleed. Dust, rather than blood, is what one would 
expect to find in the veins of this sort of women, whose 
very life-sap — judging from their parchment-like skin 
and withered looking hair — seems to have been dried 
up at the root ages ago. The skin on the lips of such 
women is always pulling off, their finger-nails are gen- 
erally split. The heat of to-day had helped not only 
to aggravate this general impression of dryness to 
something almost approaching mummification — for 
the Miss Wards of the world never perspire, they only 
shrivel — but also to sharpen the warlike temper. Miss 
Farthingall was the most natural person to let it out 
upon. From the very first Miss Ward had stigma- 
tised the new Stonefield mistress as a young person,” 
and everybody knew what it meant to be called a 
young person by the doctor’s sister, whose mental 
energy, insufficiently occupied by the management of 
her brother’s small household, had for years past 
found the necessary outlet in looking after the morals 
of the neighbourhood. Just lately there had been 
nothing very exciting agoing, so Miss Farthingall, ap- 
pearing on the scene, had been pounced upon with 
alacrity. From the moment of setting eyes on her. 


THE SCHOOL FEAST. 


97 


Miss Ward had scented a promising subject. Instinct 
and experience both told her that something interesting 
could scarcely fail to come from her sojourn in the 
neighbourhood. In the first place she was pretty, 
which, in Miss Ward^s opinion, was in itself a sus- 
picious circumstance; in the second place she was far 
too self-possessed for a schoolmistress. Miss Lee, the 
Ileywood teacher, now sitting at the other side of the 
table on the edge of her chair, and thankfully drink- 
ing her tea without sugar, because nobody had re- 
membered to give her any, and because she was far 
too aware of her position to ask for some, was Miss 
Ward’s idea of what a schoolmistress should be like. 
Miss Farthingall was not like that at all. Not even 
Sir Louis’s near neighbourhood seemed to confuse her. 
At the moment of his setting down beside her. Miss 
Ward’s silks had audibly rustled, while her small, 
bullet-like head went up with a quick movement of 
attention. At the further sight of the gratified smile 
on the schoolmistress’s face, her nostrils began to di- 
late, like those of a war-horse that smells powder. 
Could the young person actually imagine that Sir 
Louis liked sitting near her? It really was time that 
somebody took her down a peg. Pitching her voice 
to its most penetrating key, and getting her eye-glass 
well into position. Miss Ward accordingly opened fire 
across the table. 

You are very much to be envied. Miss Farthing- 
all; this heat doesn’t seem to affect you in the least. 
It is nothing, doubtless, to what you have been used 
to in Australia. I suppose that is why you keep so 
cooL” The emphasis on the last word was, to all who 
knew Miss Ward, significant of a double meaning. 


98 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Thank you/’ was the mild reply, I never suffer 
from the heat.” 

And yet to lohk at the consistency of your gown, 
one would almost suppose so.” 

This unavoidably called the attention of the com- 
pany to what Miss AVard considered the indescent 
transparency of Miss Farthingall’s white muslin, 
through whose flimsy fabric the soft outline of arms 
and shoulders were very plainly visible. But, al- 
though all eyes instinctively turned towards her. Miss 
Farthingall did not appear even to have understood 
that a rebuke was intended. Her voice was as sweet, 
and her eyes as guileless, as ever, as she gently re- 
plied — 

You are a little hard on my poor gown. Miss 
Ward. It has been washed so often that it has very 
little consistency at all remaining; and as I shan’t be 
able to afford another this summer, what would you 
have me do? ” 

A blush rose at the words — not to the face of Miss 
Farthingall, however, but to that of Miss Lee, who, 
in pure consternation at the naive outspokenness of the 
reply, grew scarlet up to her rather scanty hair-roots. 
Miss Ward’s silks rustled once more. The glance 
might be deprecating and the tone lamb-like, but she 
was not to be taken in by anything of the sort. 

I hope that at least you have brought a jacket 
with you for the evening,” she remarked, with a shade 
more shrillness of tone. 

‘‘ Alas, I have none flt to be seen ! I am afraid 
I shall have to go home as I am, unless, indeed, some 
one is so good as to lend me one. I might almost be 
bold enough to appeal to you ” — and she positively 


THE SCHOOL FEAST. 


99 


smiled across the table into the speaker’s disdainful 
face — only I fancy that your jacket mightn’t fit me 
quite; it is just possible, you know, that I mightn’t 
get it to meet.” 

Several glances were here naturally passed from 
the schoolmistress’s small but exquisitely moulded fig- 
ure to the flat front of the Tiger-Lily’s mauve silk 
dress, and several throats were hastily cleared, pre- 
sumably in order to smother a rising titter, for, al- 
though few people cared to tackle Miss Ward, every 
one enjoyed seeing her defeated. 

General conversation rushed to the rescue, while 
the doctor’s sister collapsed into quivering silence, 
vaguely aware that if any one had been taken down a 
peg, it certainly was not the schoolmistress. 

Sir Louis had been among the titterers. The 
little governess had always amused him; indeed, it 
had been by amusing him that she had first caught his 
fancy that time five years ago. He now turned to her 
with some undertoned remark about her adversary, 
and again, as he did so, he caught Florence’s eyes upon 
him. Never mind!” he said to himself, a trifle 
savagely; it’s the very thing for her.” And, tickled 
with his idea, he bent a little nearer to Miss Farthing- 
all, and whispered a little lower than was absolutely 
necessary. To alarm her by appearing to find pleas- 
ure in the schoolmistress’s society would bring her to 
her senses quicker than anything else. So at least 
believed Sir Louis, who, like all men who know a little 
about women, but not quite enough, was rather too 
apt to generalize. Because he happened to know some 
women with whom this treatment would undoubtedly 
have answered, he jumped to the conclusion that it 


100 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


must answer here, too. Her manner that afternoon 
had shown him that it would probably need stronger 
measures to bring her to reason than merely a week’s 
reflection; a little fright would do it beautifully, no 
doubt. It was acting on this idea that he now began 
deliberately laying himself out to be agreeable to his 
neighbour, regardless of the notice he was attracting, 
oblivious alike of the feelings of his quondam flame, 
which were being wantonly trifled with, and the signs 
of distress, which, despite all efforts at composure, es- 
caped Florence from time to time. Indeed, these 
symptoms afforded him only a wicked pleasure; he 
had been tolerably patient all the week, but patience 
and tolerance were at an end. He felt it, and he must 
revenge himself on some one for what he had under- 
gone; and this he proceeded to do, unaware that the 
means by which he believed he was furthering his 
cause were the very ones to destroy it. As the after- 
noon wore on, and the shadows of the beech trees 
stretched across the terrace, Florence’s face grew 
harder and her lips more tightly set. Until now she 
had had to uphold her staggering resolution — and, de- 
spite her brave front, it had staggered more than once 
sorely during the trial week — only the dregs of her 
enthusiasm for Miss Farthingall’s cause, and the con- 
sciousness that by giving up her betrothed she was 
handsomely paying for her too great share of luck in 
the world, and need henceforth be oppressed by no 
more sense of debt. How, however, watching Louis’s 
studiously attentive glances, and attempting vainly to 
catch the sound of confldential-looking speeches, 
which she unavoidably took for far more than they 
were worth, there slowly became added to every- 


THE SCHOOL FEAST. 


101 


thing else the conviction that the break could be no 
great sacrifice to Louis, since it was evident that his 
old passion was already awakening in full force; 
neither, while watching the fire that momentarily rose 
to the schoolmistress’s blue eyes, could she doubt that 
it was returned. 

No, no,” said Florence to herself, when at length 
she stood alone on the terrace in the gathering dusk, 
gazing out idly over the surface of the tumbled, paper- 
strewn lawn, where to-morrow morning the sparrows 
would be gathering round the broken buns like the 
vultures round the corpses on a battle-field. No, 
no; those two are meant for each other, and I have 
no right to stand between them.” 


CHAPTEK X. 


IN THE LONG WALK AGAIN. 

The Long Walk once more, but not under quite 
the same aspect. Yesterday’s heat had been followed 
by a thunderstorm in the night — one of those half- 
hearted thunderstorms which do not quite succeed 
in clearing the air, and which could still be heard 
grumbling occasionally in the distance. ■ The sun had 
not been seen to-day, while leaves and grass alike 
dripped from the heaviness of the short, sudden 
showers, which still descended from time to time with 
the vehemence of a burst of tears. The sky was be- 
having somewhat like an afflicted woman, who is for 
ever drying her eyes and appearing to have got over 
it, yet ever and again relapses into weeping. Sir 
Louis — first at the tryst to-day — as he paced the 
further end of the damp walk, which the absence of 
sunshine made almost as dark as a vaulted corridor, 
may possibly have felt a little like the fisherman in the 
fairy-tale, whose visits to the enchanted fish were 
marked by such fatally significant changes of weather. 
Last time he had come here as light-hearted as the but- 
terflies that danced in the sunshine, while to-day the 
sky was almost as leaden as in the fairy-tale, and the 
bindweed on the gate hung there like sodden white 
102 


IN THE LONG WALK AGAIN. 


103 


rags, its short life ended and done with; and though 
his heart was not exactly heavy, he was yet aware of 
a certain uneasiness which dated only from yesterday. 
In general he was a man of common sense — of even 
greater common sense than is usual at his age — but he 
had his foolish impulses, and the cold light of this 
morning’s awakening had shown him that he had 
acted upon one of these impulses yesterday. Not 
that any unprejudiced person could have been de- 
ceived by that pretence of a flirtation; but Florence 
was not unprejudiced, and the look in her eyes when 
saying good-bye had unpleasantly arrested his atten- 
tion. It was the recollection of that look which had 
brought him to the trysting-spot at least twenty min- 
utes before the appointed time. Once here, however, 
his spirits began to rise. The nearness of the decision 
made it seem inconceivable that it should not turn out 
as he wished. Granted that he had been a trifle im- 
prudent yesterday, it could not be difficult to make 
it all right again to-day, since he knew that he loved 
her, and did not yet doubt that she loved him. Thus 
thought Louis, being young and sanguine, and con- 
fident of his power over the woman he had chosen. 

He was still pacing the end of the walk, throwing 
keen, impatient glances down the length of the 
shadowy approach, when unexpectedly he saw her 
quite close. She had reached the old avenue by a 
side path, and thus escaped his notice. 

Florence! ” he said in joyful surprise, and ad- 
vanced impetuously towards her with outstretched 
arms, feeling rather than telling himself that it 
wanted but one embrace, one meeting of eager lips, 
to blot all scruples from both their minds. 


lOi 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


At siglit of liis movement she stood still, and he, 
being now near enough to see her face plainly, like- 
wise stopped short, and let his arms sink to his sides. 

For a moment they looked at each other in silence, 
and then, before she had spoken. Sir Louis said rapid- 
ly and low, You canH mean it, Flo! ’’ 

Then with what seemed a physical, even more 
than a mental effort, she found her voice, and began 
speaking, a little hoarsely, but far too distinctly for 
his unwilling ears. 

I do mean it, Louis; you know that I do, or you 
would not put that question. I meant it last week 
already, and now I am quite sure that we do not be- 
long to each other. It is since yesterday that I feel 
quite sure of it,’’ she added, meeting his look full, 
with cold grey eyes. 

I knew it!” he cried, angrily returning the 
look, though it was himself he was angry with at the 
moment. Then he broke off and stood staring at her 
confounded. It was not the words so much that stag- 
gered him as the set purpose written on her face. It 
looked older already than it had done this time last 
week. With these new lines about her pale lips, and 
with her grey waterproof buttoned up to her throat, 
she might almost be taken for a woman of thirty. But 
it would be ridiculous to think of giving up yet. For 
a brief space longer they stood opposite to each other, 
beside the oaken bench, on which neither of them 
would have thought of sitting down to-day, even if 
it had not been streaming with wet; and then Sir 
Louis burst out — 

You cannot mean to say, surely, that you took 
that tomfoolery for anything hut tomfoolery? Any 


IN THE LONG WALK AGAIN. 


105 


infant conld surely see that I was simply in a temper, 
and wanted to pay you out for your coldness of the 
afternoon. I ought not to have done it, of course, 
and Fm sorrow now that I did it. There! Will that 
do? Abuse me as much as you like, but for goodness’ 
sake don’t let us make mountains out of mole-hills! 
If you want to hear again that Miss Farthingall is 
nothing to me. I’ll repeat it as often as you tell 
me to! ” 

I don’t want to hear it, Louis; I never like to 
hear untruths.” 

Then it is jealousy after all? By Jove! a 
pretty mess I’ve made of it between you two! ” and 
he laughed harshly. Answer me this question, 
Florence: Do you, or do you not, believe that I love 
you? ” 

I dare say you think that you love me, but you 
are deceiving yourself; your first love will wake again 
— it is awaking already. Since yesterday ” 

“Yesterday be d — d!” said Sir Louis, deliber- 
ately; and then, meeting her startled look, he forgot 
everything else, and began pleading his cause with all 
the passion of a hot-blooded man who sees his happi- 
ness threatened, as well as with all the persistence of 
a somewhat tough-fibred nature, who simply cannot 
believe his own defeat at the first or even at the tenth 
saying. 

It was a different sort of appeal altogether from 
the one he had made to her at this same spot a week 
ago. Then he had spoken as to an unreasonable child ; 
to-day it was as a man speaks to the woman he has 
chosen out of all others, and whom he is to lose before 
having fully gained her. Had he pleaded thus the 


106 


MISS PKOVIDENCE. 


first time, all might yet have been well, for, despite 
her cool grey eyes, her blood was as hot as his; but the 
moment had been missed. Too late he began to see 
the mistake he had made. She was a child, indeed, 
so far as worldly wisdom was concerned, but the sort 
of child which requires to be taken seriously, for in 
her passions she was already a woman. The fault 
had lain in his over-confidence. He had thought to 
coax her back into good humour, to laugh her out of 
her delicious quixotry, not counting on the resistance 
of a character whose original wilfulness having never 
been crossed, had developed into something which 
could only be called by the hard name of obstinacy, 
nor reckoning with the deep-seated convictions, whose 
roots reached back into childhood. She should have 
been treated on a different plan from the first; he saw 
it now, and cursed the blindness which had led to the 
blunders of the whole last week, and to the crowning 
blunder of yesterday. 

And the result of all the blunders was that slowly, 
very slowly, it began to dawn upon him that he was 
pleading in vain. Again, like last week, she shook 
her head and answered between her teeth, It can- 
not be ! ’’ 

When she had said it for the third or fourth time, 
he stopped speaking abruptly, and looked at her hard, 
as though struck by a new idea. 

If it cannot be, it is only because you do not love 
me,’’ he said, after a silence. 

Tor the first time since the beginning of the inter- 
view her stony face flushed. 

‘‘ What makes you think that? ” she asked in evi- 
dently genuine astonishment. 


IN THE LONG WALK AGAIN. 107 

A queer question to put to a man on the back 
of his dismissal! 

But, Louis/^ she began in distress, honestly 
startled by the implication just made, I thought I 
had explained everything so clearly. I am giving 
you up because you belong by rights to another wom- 
an, not because I do not love you. I do love you with 
all my heart, just as much as I ever did, although I 
know now. that you don’t deserve it; but I could never 
again find happiness in your love — don’t you under- 
stand?” And she looked at him straight with pure, 
passionate eyes, into which her fervour had suddenly 
driven the tears. 

Sir Louis laughed savagely. 

No — I don’t understand. I suppose it is my 
matter-of-factness which is again in the way; but I’ve 
never heard that giving up a man is a proof of affec- 
tion. Surely it would have been simpler to tell me 
last week that you were tired of me, instead of getting 
up all this comedy! ” 

Florence looked at him in dumb reproach. The 
case seemed so clear to her mind, that the idea of her 
love being doubted had actually never occurred to her. 
She stood silent now, too much hurt to speak, while 
Sir Louis, with an ugly look on his face, walked back- 
wards and forwards across the breadth of the wet 
walk. Even to himself the idea he had propounded 
had only just occurred, but already it had taken such 
possession of his mind as to blind him to what stood 
written in that innocently undisguised look. To his 
unimaginative nature so quixotic a sacrifice was well- 
nigh inconceivable. There was an explanation which 
lay much nearer, and appeared ever so much more 


108 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


plausible. She had simply never loved him, and was 
seizing the first opportunity of getting rid of him. 
The thought had cut short his stormy appeal, choking 
back the fiery words on his lips. 

His heart was heavy within him, and his mind 
full of unpleasant thoughts as at last he stood still 
again in front of where Florence was nervously boring 
the point of her umbrella into the wet gravel. She 
would have liked to turn and fly, for her nerve had 
been a little shaken by the accusation hurled in her 
face, only she felt that the last word had not yet been 
spoken. 

We must make an end of this,’’ said Sir Louis, 
almost roughly. I ask you again. Will you keep 
your promise of becoming my wife, or will you not? ” 

I will not,” she replied very low, as she raised 
her pale, obstinate face to meet the look that was al- 
most a scowl. 

About the chin and the nostrils Sir Louis’s brown 
skin began to show patches of pallor, while his eyes 
narrowed in their sockets. It was the only sign he 
gave of the fury which at that moment threatened to 
master him. 

Very well,” he said after a moment, speaking a 
little slower than usual, as though aware that he could 
not trust himself. You can do as you like, of course; 
you are a free Englishwoman. Only don’t make the 
mistake of forgetting that I too am a free Englishman, 
and that I intend to keep my liberty of action. You 
can give me up if you like, but you cannot make me 
marry Miss Farthingall, or any one else, against my 
will. You may be a Miss Providence to your vil- 
lagers, but, as for me, I prefer to manage my own 


IN THE LONG WALK AGAIN. 


109 


affairs — including my conscience — for myself; and, 
therefore, as I do not feel bound to marry Miss Far- 
thingall, I shall just leave her alone. Is that clear? ” 
I am sure you will do what is your duty,’’ mur- 
mured Florence, quaking a little at the change in his 
manner. You will see in time that I am right, even 
if you do not believe me now.” 

She was silent, gazing down at the wet gravel. 
Another shower had come on unnoticed; the heavy 
drops pattered on the leaves overhead, but it did not 
occur to Florence to open her umbrella. She still 
stared at the gravel, taking in the colour and form of 
each pebble with a painful distinctness. There seemed 
nothing more to say but good-bye. 

But we can be friends, can we not? ” she asked, 
a little tremulously, moved, despite her fixed purpose, 
by the nearness of the last moment. 

Friends? ” repeated Sir Louis, in that same de- 
liberate manner. ^^No; we can never be friends. 
We must be lovers, or we must be strangers; there 
is no other choice for us two. Either we must hold 
each other close, or else the world is not wide enough 
to put between us. You have made your choice to- 
day. Good-bye, Florence; I shall never be your 
friend.” 

And, without even touching her hand, he turned, 
and, tramping down the long, wet grass of the border- 
ing meadow-land, disappeared between the trees. 

For a space Florence stood where he had left her, 
having apparently forgotten why she was here. A 
splash of rain in her face brought her back to actu- 
ality. She put her hand up to her cheeks, vaguely 
wondering why there should be hot drops among the 


110 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


cold drops. After all, she had not believed that it 
would be quite as bad as this. It had been more com- 
monplace on the whole than she had expected, and not 
quite as successful, for even now the work was only 
half done. Louis had not accepted his fate as she 
had meant him to do. lie was not going to marry 
her; but what good would that do so long as he also 
did not marry Miss Farthingall? 

For a little longer she stood considering, then 
turned back quickly towards the house, and, having 
reached it, ordered the pony-carriage. She was quite 
certain still that she had acted rightly, but a desire had 
come over her to seek some further assurance of the 
fact. To convince herself once more of Miss Far- 
thingalFs devotion to Louis would be to forestall the 
stirring of any possible doubts in the future. There- 
fore, it was to Stonefield that she was bound. She 
had not been there again since the day she had found 
the locket. Some curious feeling of distaste, which 
she had not attempted to examine closely, had kept her 
away from the schoolmistress. She was ready to give 
up her own happiness for the other’s sake, but, oddly 
enough, she was not ready to enjoy her society, in the 
way she had enjoyed it before the discovery. To-day, 
however, all else was swept aside by the force of the 
impulse which had come over her. She felt that she 
must see Miss Farthingall, and see her immediately. 

In as short a time as the distance allowed, the pony- 
carriage drew up before the Stonefield school-house. 
Traversing the empty class-room, Florence walked 
straight across the passage to the door she had entered 
twice before, and in her eagerness forgot to knock. 

Miss Farthingall, who was kneeling on the floor 


IN THE LONG WALK AGAIN. 


Ill 


before an open trunk, glanced round in surprise. The 
next moment she had sprung to her feet — not forget- 
ting, however, first to shut down the lid of the trunk 
— and stood opposite to her visitor, looking rather pale, 
but asking nothing. 

I have done it! said Florence, without further 
greeting, as she sank down on the chair beside her. 

Miss Farthingall grew a little paler, but at the 
same time something shot through her eyes, lighting 
them up brilliantly for an instant. She still asked 
nothing, but only stood looking and waiting. 

I have told Louis that I will never marry him, 
and he believes me at last; but this is all I can do. 
I have not been able to persuade him to pay you the 
debt he owes you. If he ever does so it will not be 
my merit; I feel as if it had all been a failure! ’’ 
And, to her own great astonishment, she suddenly 
burst into excited tears. 

Miss Farthingall was beside her in a moment — 
on her knees once more, and making pretty and dis- 
creet efforts at consolation. 

Oh, Miss Crossley, my dear Miss Crossley, what 
a thing to do! she murmured, stroking the hands 
in which Florence’s face was buried. What on 
earth moved you to so desperate a step? Broken off 
your engagement! Oh, why did you not give me an 
idea of your intentions? I am sure I could have 
persuaded you out of it. Why, it is madness! Of 
course he will never marry me. I have long been re- 
signed to my fate. If I could have guessed that the 
telling of my unhappy story would have so disas- 
trous an effect, I would much rather have cut 
out my tongue than let a word escape me. Oh, can- 


112 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


not matters yet be arranged? Perhaps it is not too 
late! ’’ 

i^o, it can never be arranged/’ said Florence, 
rather jerkily, between heavy sobs. I don’t want 
it arranged; but I can’t do more than I have done. 
All the rest ” 

You have done far too much already — far more 
than is reasonable or even right,” protested Miss Far- 
thingall, in a tone of tender reproach; while to her- 
self, in quite another tone, she added, The rest I 
fancy I can manage for myself.” 

Tell me,” said Florence, suddenly taking hold 
of Miss Farthingall’s two hands with a grip that was 
almost painful — tell me again that you really love 
him, in the way that I have loved him till now; that 
your heart is quite his — quite, quite ! — that when he 
marries you — as I pray to God he will — you will make 
him happy and think only of him ! ” 

She had drawn the schoolmistress towards her, 
and, bending forward herself, was gazing into her 
eyes with a fierce question in her own. 

The vehemence of her manner was such that Miss 
Farthingall positively reddened; but she did not evade 
the glance, though neither did she answer imme- 
diately. In the minute of silence that followed, the 
blue eyes into which Florence gazed began gradually 
to kindle, Avhile over the delicate features there slowly 
stole a shade of something that set the veins in her 
milk-white throat a throbbing, and caused the full 
red lips to open in a richer curve. 

Yes,” she answered thoughtfully and slowly; 

I love him, be sure of that — I love him as well as 
you do. When he merely touches my hand I am 


IN THE LONG WALK AGAIN. 


113 


happy; and, oh, that hour yesterday by his side! ’’ 
She paused and heaved a slow, voluptuous sigh, not 
looking at Florence now, but gazing dreamily past 
her through the little window. This time there was 
no mistaking that she spoke the truth. 

Yes; she loves him, thank God! ’’ said Florence 
to herself. This was the sort of thing she had needed 
to hearer 

There is no other man to be compared to him. 
Have you noticed — and Miss FarthingalFs eyes 
turned back to Florence's face — have you noticed 
how perfectly his nostrils are moulded? So deep 
and so clean-cut — they might be of stone, and yet as 
sensitive as those of a horse! 

Nostrils? ’’ said Florence, a little bewildered. 

I doiiT think I know what his nostrils are like ex- 
actly. I don’t even know if he is what people call 
handsome, but I feel sure that the bottom of his nature 
is really noble, and therefore I still hope that he will 
do you justice.” 

And the sweep of his shoulders,” went on Miss 
Farthingall, having apparently not heard; ‘Miave 
you ever seen anything as magnificent as they are? 
It makes one’s heart beat, merely to look at them. 
I love him for those shoulders alone! ” 

I think I love him more for the straight look in 
his eyes, and for the suggestion of mental strength 
about him. He has such tremendous energy in him.” 

And such a good neck!” completed the school- 
mistress, enthusiastically. 

Florence dropped into silence, vaguely aware that, 
despite their agreement on the chief point, they were 
somehow at cross purposes. It was not the first time 


114 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


that Miss Fartliiiigall had startled her, though she 
had never attempted to analyze the cause of the slight 
shocks which had been brought to her by such re- 
marks, for instance, as those which, on the very first 
day of their acquaintance, the schoolmistress had 
made on the looks of the footman and groom. 

She released the hands she held, and rose slowly 
to her feet. Now that she had learnt what she had 
wanted to learn, she had nothing more to do here. 

The tears which had dried upon her cheeks were 
still glistening there in silver patches as she took the 
reins into her hands. It was with a rather wan little 
smile that she nodded good-bye to the schoolmistress; 
for to-day her strength was at an end. 

She is fond of him,^’ said Miss Farthingall, as 
she turned back thoughtfully to the schoolroom. 
There was triumph in her eyes, but there was some- 
tliing almost like a qualm at her heart; the sight of 
too acute suffering had never been pleasant to her. 

But the soft moment Avas not long in passing. 

Bah ! she said, making a movement as though 
to rid herself of some oppression, she’ll have lots of 
other chances, but the odds are that this will be my 
only one ! ” 


CHAPTEK XL 

FAMILY HISTORY, 

Circumstances were almost as responsible as na- 
ture for having made Cordelia Farthingall exactly 
what she was. Her father, the cast-off black sheep 
of an ancient Irish family, had been a mixture of a 
soldier and an adventurer, who, having served in all 
sorts of armies and in all sorts of wars — among which 
rebellions (in which he was generally to be found on 
the wrong side) had played a prominent part — had 
wound up a tolerably wild career by marrying, in a 
fit of compassion, a third-rate actress, who for years 
had been one of his standing flames. The stage acci- 
dent which lamed her was at the same time the stroke 
of luck which procured her a husband, for Captain 
EarthingalFs heart was even softer, and his imagina- 
tion quite as inflammable, as Irish hearts and imagina- 
tions are apt to be; and thus it came about that the 
half-crippled blonde^ cut off from her profession, and 
not knowing which way to turn, had accomplished 
what this same blonde in health and standing upright 
on her two feet had not been able to attain. 

This oddly assorted couple lived by no means un- 
happily. The ex-actress was a good-natured, boimee, 
cheerful creature, who, finding herself landed in 
115 


IIG 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


matrimony, made the best of it, as well as of the pov- 
erty to which they rapidly sank. Her past had been 
a pretty lively one, but gratitude made her not only 
faithful to her husband, but lenient towards his con- 
jugal failings. She never managed quite to get over 
this over-powering feeling of gratitude towards the 
man who had made her a captain’s wife, just as never 
to her dying day could she hear herself addressed as 
Mrs. Farthingall ” without flushing with pleasure. 
The captain himself had been so used to roughing it 
that domestic privations failed to endanger the house- 
hold peace, being borne with the hardiness and reck- 
lessness of an old soldier, who, having been accustomed 
to live from one day to the other, had never enter- 
tained any anxiety for the morrow, for the simple 
reason that it was so very doubtful whether he would 
live to see it. The habit clung to him, making fore- 
thought an impossible thing; and what he had become 
by practice, his wife was by nature — imprudent, 
thoughtless, but always sanguine ; and thus they lived 
from day to day, and from hand to mouth, unreflect- 
ing as two children, and almost as contented. 

As long as the captain lived the existence of the 
family was more or less nomadic; both he and she 
were too restless and too much accustomed to change 
to let them stay long on one spot. But through it all 
London remained their lode-star. Various places, 
both English and Continental, were tried in turn — 
for the captain had buried his sword on his wedding- 
day — their tents were pitched over and over again, 
only to be pulled down once more and dragged back to 
London. In Cordelia’s childish recollections many 
out-of-the way places figured and many exciting 


FAMILY HISTORY. 


117 


scenes, such as disputes with German tradesmen and 
French washerwomen, nocturnal flights from hotels 
with the unpaid bill left behind; but the pictures of 
London by-streets were more numerous than all the 
others. It was in London, too, that, after Captain 
Farthingalhs death, his widow remained stranded, 
and at last stuck fast. Having somehow managed to 
become fat on poverty, she was no longer quite as 
movable as formerly, and therefore resigned herself 
to sit still, and for the sake of eking out the wretched 
pension on which she and her one child were con- 
demned to live, began to give histrionic lessons to 
pupils whom she received in slippers and a dressing- 
gown minus most of the buttons. It was these lessons 
which brought to the little Cordelia — who owed her 
very name to the stage reminiscences of her mother^s — 
her first sniff of theatrical air. Very soon the desire 
to go on the stage had taken full possession of her, but 
upon this idea the actress-mother immediately put 
down her very substantial foot. She had promised 
the captain on his death-bed that this should not be — 
it had been the one point on which he had fixed his 
prospective gaze, warned, perhaps, by the past — and, 
despite her flightiness, the ex-actress was too honest 
and too grateful to her husband’s memory to go 
against his will. But it was a sore trial, for any one 
could see that Corrie was simply a born actress. 

She was a different person altogether from her 
mother, with far more brains and far greater powers 
of calculation. Her mother’s flightiness she had in- 
deed inherited, also her elasticity, and much of her 
good humour and buoyancy under misfortune, but 
not her honesty of mind and faithfulness. A charac- 


118 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


ter like hers could not, in the long run, be content 
within the narrow limitations of its present life; being 
able to see further than her mother, she also wanted 
more. Her more exacting senses, which she prob- 
ably owed to the admixture of aristocratic blood, were 
far more acutely attracted than Mrs. Farthingalhs had 
ever been by the good things of this life. From her 
father she had got the undaunted spirit and physical 
energy which had characterized him, also the inflam- 
mable fancy, ready to flare up, but unable to burn for 
long, which, by leading him into innumerable scrapes, 
had estranged him from his family, and which, as she 
soon began to feel, would be a danger to herself. Her 
spirit of restlessness she had inherited from both 
parents, her keenness and coolness from neither — it 
was to herself alone that she owed them — qualities 
which had come from who knows where, and which 
circumstances had developed to singular perfection. 

From her earliest childhood it had been clear to 
Cordelia that her only chance of making her fortune 
lay in the combination of her face and her wits. Soon 
she began to understand that even off the boards her 
talents need not be wasted, for the fact of the whole 
world being a stage was one which took early posses- 
sion of her mind. The great question was how best 
to make use of them in order to attain her object — an 
object which she never really lost sight of, despite the 
various accidents, to the verge of which her excitable 
senses occasionally led her, for, under all her flighti- 
ness, there was in the girl an undercurrent of deter- 
mination which few suspected — something of the iron 
hand beneath the velvet glove. Privations and dis- 
comforts she bore cheerfully, not because, like her 


FAMILY HISTORY. 


119 


mother, she didn’t mind them, bnt because she felt 
sure that they were not going to last for ever. 

The combination of all these qualities had made 
of Cordelia Farthingall the ideal adventuress — the 
adventuress with a purpose — ready for anything, and 
knowing how to turn everything to her own ends. 
Even to those who had gauged her fully, her plucky 
bearing up under misfortune, as well as the extraor- 
dinary amount of what the Americans call grit,” 
hidden away under that fairy-like form, made her not 
wholly unlovable — a graceful, brilliant, fantastical 
being, who unavoidably attracted attention, and could 
scarcely escape stirring admiration, and, after all, not 
much worse than other people, since, if she harmed 
anybody, it was only because of being so very hard-up 
herself, for of malice there existed not a grain in her 
nature. Live and let live ” had always been her 
motto. Such at this time was Cordelia Farthingall. 

Her meeting with Louis Ilepburne had brought 
about the first crisis in her life. Hot that he was the 
first man who had made an impression on her — for 
even before she was fifteen, scarcely a member of the 
other sex had passed her in the street without the pre- 
cocious blue eyes having taken his measure, as it were 
— but that she had never before been thrown so con- 
stantly into one man’s society. As soon as she found 
out that he was a younger son, with only a very mod- 
erate fortune of his own, she began seriously to weigh 
the pros and cons of encouraging him yet further 
than she had already done. It was the cons that had 
it on the whole. The consciousness that she had her 
whole youth before her fed her ambition. She 
thought she could do better for herself than that; but 


120 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


the struggle was a hard one, for Mr. Hepburne’s splen- 
did physique had made a deep impression upon her 
fancy, and, as usual, her cool head was a little in dan- 
ger of being overbalanced by her inflammable senses. 
It was chiefly for fear of doing something imprudent 
that, on receiving her discharge, she had grasped at 
the opportunity offered her for disappearing from the 
scene. Now would have been the moment for appeal- 
ing to her admirer, and possibly gaining him for a hus- 
band; but the idea was rejected after due reflection, 
and the ticket to Australia taken. 

She had not yet disembarked when the image of 
Mr. Hepburne had begun to fade beside that of a 
black-haired fellow-passenger, who possessed the first 
true almond-shaped eyes which she had never met 
with in the flesh, although she had often gloated over 
them on paper; and when, five years later, she had 
again stepped on to English ground, it had required 
the chance remark made by the dying Bella even to 
remind her of her former admirer’s existence. 

But that remark once made was enough to reshape 
her plans. It had not been home-sickness alone which 
had brought her back to England, but also the ac- 
quaintance of an elderly manufacturer, who had been 
starting a branch house in Melbourne, and who, be- 
sides being a fine man for his age, Avas evidently much 
more than comfortably off. But although it was in 
order to keep her eye upon him that she had embarked 
in the same vessel, he had yet managed to escape her. 
Then it was, while she was deliberating as to her next 
move, that the neAvs of Sir Louis Hepburne’s succes- 
sion to fortune and title had given her thoughts a iieAV 
turn. It actually seemed as though that half-fcrgot- 


FAMILY HISTORY. 


121 


ten flirtation might yet turn out to be of use. He 
had certainly admired her in those days, and he was 
still free. To her sanguine spirit this was enough en- 
couragement, at least, to try her chance. 

Arrived on the scene of action, there was the un- 
pleasant discovery of the engagement to be faced; but 
even then she would not despair, until she had seen 
the woman she had to deal with; and once having 
seen her, her hoj)es unavoidably rose anew, for the 
power of reading character at a glance had been one 
of the advantages acquired from years of struggle. 
Her wits, sharpened on the whetstone of hardship, 
showed her the way to set about this enterprise. Out 
of the reminiscences attached to a few strolls in the 
twilight, a few glances exchanged, a couple of pres- 
sures of the hand — backed by the trump-card of her 
dismissal — it was astonishing how pretty a romance 
could be woven by skilful hands, how heartrending a 
picture of portrayed innocence. How conveniently, for 
instance, that locket had come in, into which in a 
moment of rapture flve years ago she had stuffed that 
photograph of Louis, stolen from his very room. It 
was not even necessary to invent, only to colour and to 
group — always a much safer thing to do, and one 
which she understood to perfection. Thus her refer- 
ences to her mother were in themselves a work of art. 
All that the defunct Mrs. Farthingall had had to do 
with the past episode had been — in answer to a glow- 
ingly worded description of the visitor staying in the 
house — to write her daughter a tolerably well-spelled 
sermon on good behaviour in general and the danger 
of encouraging young men in particular. In terms 
that were emphatic, if not strictly grammatical — for 


122 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


tlie ex-actress was terribly vain of her tardily ac- 
quired respectability, and naturally took her daughter 
to be as giddy as she herself had been — Cordelia was 
implored to remember that she was a captain’s daugh- 
ter, and that nothing must be allowed to tarnish the 
name of Farthingall. Out of this passage the daugh- 
ter had, at the given time, evolved that picture of a 
broken-hearted mother, which had helped so effec- 
tually to harrow Florence’s feelings, as well as the es- 
trangement from further relatives, of whose existence 
she was indeed vaguely aware, but whom she had 
never actually seen. 

And yet, despite the depths of falsehood within 
her, she had spoken the truth to-day, at least 
when she told Florence Crossley that she loved Sir 
Louis. The enterprise had been begun purely out of 
calculation, but, meeting him again, her former fancy 
had flared up in a far more passionate form. It was 
not only that he had grown richer, but also better 
looking; in every way he was more desirable now than 
he had then been. Big men had always had an at- 
traction for this small woman — for we generally go by 
contrasts — and Sir Louis was almost a giant compared 
to her, while these flve years had developed his mag- 
niflcent frame, and stamped his features with a 
strength and manliness which could not escape any 
one with so keen an eye to the physical points of men 
as Miss Farthingall possessed. The species of ecstasy 
into which she had seemed to fall while dwelling on 
his perfections had not been feigned, but very real in- 
deed; from the moment of having seen him again — 
indeed, almost from the moment of having espied his 
latest photograph on Florence’s mantelpiece — she had 


FAMILY HISTORY. 


123 


felt that she must gain him at any price. At the 
close of the school-feast yesterday, and under the in- 
fluence of his near vicinity, she would almost have 
been ready to marry him without a fortune, though 
the fact of his possessing one undoubtedly bore the 
chief merit in fixing her determination. 

One half of the work was done already, but — as 
Florence had said — the other half still remained to 
be done, and the question now was how best to set 
about it. 

Patience! was what she said to herself, with 
a burningly impatient sigh, as the result of the re- 
flections that followed upon Florence's visit. There 
must be no hurry; the first thing is to give him time.^’ 


9 


CHAPTER XII. 


LADY HEPBUKNE. 

On leaving the Long Walk, after his final part- 
ing with Florence, Sir Louis went home like a man 
dazed, and scarcely yet fully realizing what had hap- 
pened. He was passing down the stone-paved pas- 
sage which ran the length of the castle, when the 
sound of his name, pronounced in a thin, plaintively 
quavering voice, caused him to stand still suddenly. 
In one moment the rage in his heart, which had been 
silently consuming him for an hour past, gave way to 
another emotion; to his hard-set features there came a 
look of keen pain. It was his mother who was calling 
him. He had not thought of this yet, and, remem- 
bering all that was at stake, he did not know how to 
face what was coming. 

For a few moments he stood still listening. Per- 
haps, if he went softly past the door, she might not 
hear him; she might fancy that she had been mis- 
taken in his step, and he would gain a little time for 
collecting his thoughts. 

He was on the point of stealing forwards on tip- 
toe, when the voice came again. 

Louis,’’ it said, with even more pathetic plain- 
tiveness than the first time, Louis, why do you not 
come to me? ” 


124 


LADY HEPBURNE. 


125 


There was no saying Xo to that voice. 

For one moment longer he hesitated, with his 
hand on the door handle, then, with a deep, quick 
sigh, entered the room. 

The Stonefield drawing-room, occupying the whole 
breadth of one of the castle wings, was lighted only 
at each end by a broad oriel window, scarcely sufficing 
to dispel the gloom which gathered for ever in the 
centre of the long, low-ceilinged apartment, more a 
gallery than a room in its proportions, as well as in the 
bareness which as yet reigned in the long-disused 
space. In the heart of this gloom — gratefully cool on 
a hot summer’s day, but drearily depressing on a win- 
ter afternoon, or even such an overcast July evening 
as was this — and beside the empty fireplace, there sat 
in a deep chair an alarmingly thin, white-haired old 
lady, with a bleached mouth that from time to time 
twitched nervously, and a look of feverish eagerness 
in her mild brown eyes. There was neither book nor 
work lying anywhere within her reach, and her long- 
fingered, emaciated hands lay idle in her lap, occu- 
pied only in now and then crumpling into a ball the 
delicate handkerchief they held, and then again care- 
fully smoothing it out. . 

As Sir Louis entered, she sat more upright in her 
chair, and looked eagerly, not at him, but beyond him, 
as though expecting some second person to follow. 

Have you not brought her yet? ” she anxiously 
inquired. I thought for certain that you would 
bring her to-day.” 

^^Ho; I have not brought her,” said Sir Louis; 
and, reaching his mother’s side, he knelt down on 
the floor and hid his face against her arm. It was 


im 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


the only way he could prevent her reading in his 
eyes. 

But why not?’’ she asked in naive disappoint- 
ment. 

She could not come,” he desperately answered. 

Why could she not come? Why do you not 
bring me Flo? I want to see Flo! ” the thin voice 
went on, with the persistency of a child, while the 
nervous hands crumpled up the morsel of cambric 
again, and again began to smooth out the creases. It 
is a week now since we came back, and I have been 
expecting her every day.” 

Yes, yes, I know; but I told you that she had 
been prevented. To-day it was impossible.” 

But will she come another day? ” 

Yes, she will come another day.” 

He said it steadily, though with an immense pang 
at his heart. 'No lies could matter so long as this pa- 
thetic disappointment was lightened. 

She put one of her skeleton hands under his chin, 
and, dragging up his face to a level with hers, looked 
with her feverish and yet strangely blank eyes deep 
into his troubled ones. Now was the time for gather- 
ing all his strength together; but so great was his fear 
of the consequences of a self-betrayal that he even suc- 
ceeded in smiling. 

When will it be?” she asked softly, almost 
coaxingly. 

Soon, very soon; perhaps next week.” 

Next week! ” And she heaved a patient sigh, 
a sigh of gentle but not the less suffering resignation. 
The sound of it cut him once more to the heart. He 
knew that particular sigh so well; he had heard it so 


LADY HEPBURNE. 


127 


often! How much oftener would he have to hear it? 
He scarcely dared put to himself the question^ when 
at length he had gained the solitude of his room. 

Lady Hepburne had never recovered from the 
death of her eldest son, who had himself begun by 
being a second son, the original eldest son having suc- 
cumbed to scarlet fever as a boy of ten. Already the 
first loss had shaken her sensitive nature consider- 
ably; while her husband’s death, cutting him off on 
the threshold of what promised to be a hale and hearty 
old age, had come almost as unexpectedly, and so far 
undermined her powers of resistance, that Philip’s 
tragic death in the hunting-field had proved the last 
blow, before which she went down. On her recovery 
from the stroke of paralysis, which had seized her at 
the news, it soon became evident that her intellect, and 
to some extent also her memory, had irretrievably suf- 
fered. Gradually a species of mania developed itself. 
She was of Hepburne blood herself, having been her 
husband’s first cousin, and all her life had been far 
prouder of her name than had even been Sir Charles 
himself. It was this feeling of family pride which 
now exclusively coloured her thoughts. From the 
moment of her recovery, she seemed possessed by the 
one idea that the name of Hepburne was doomed to 
extinction, and consumed by the desire to avert 
the threatened fate. Of the five children which 
Providence had given her, only three remained, 
and among these the two daughters had never 
counted in her eyes for quite as much as the 
sons; while dating from the moment of the mental 
change, they simply lost all importance. Louis was 
the only one who could still save the family from ex- 


128 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


tinction; and therefore to see him safely married had 
become the one object in her failing life, the one de- 
sire on which all her poor weakening thoughts were 
bent. Most other things — memories, interests, even 
affections — had sunk into darkness, but this one point 
burnt brightly for ever before her eyes. Life had lost 
for her everything except the hope of yet being able 
to lay her withered hand on the head of Louis’s son. 
The news of his having chosen a wife was the only 
tidings of joy for which she looked. Since his re- 
turn from India, a year ago, there had not passed a day 
on which she had lain down at night without look- 
ing to the morrow as possibly bringing the fulfil- 
ment of her hope, nor a morning on which she had 
not awakened with the thought, Perhaps it will be 
to-day! ” 

It had reached this point that Sir Louis could not 
come home even from an hour’s Avalk without her anx- 
ious brown eyes looking at him inquiringly, as though 
half hoping that he had picked up a bride during his 
constitutional, and he had long got used to the wistful 
question put regularly at the moment of saying good 
night, I^othing yet? ” 

To have to answer Nothing!” had become a 
sort of slow torture, which grew with each saying of 
the word, and the gently patient sigh which regularly 
followed, had been the hardest of all to bear. She 
had always been a mild woman, and this characteristic 
of mildness still pervaded her darkened spirit. It 
had been a happy day for both mother and son 
when at last the joyful answer had been spoken: 

Yes, there is something now! ” 

The rapture on the emaciated features, the melt- 


LADY HEPBURNE. 


129 


ing of preoccupation in the brown eyes into joyful 
surprise would be a good thing to remember to his 
very life’s end. There were no questions asked, no 
explanations even wanted; who or what the bride 
elected was had no interest for her — lay, in fact, be- 
yond the grasp of her weakened powers. Louis was 
going to marry somebody called Flo — he was going to 
marry her soon — that was enough. 

And now, with one word, he was to destroy the 
blissful dream, to extinguish all the sunshine which 
had flooded the evening of this sorely tried life. To 
tell her to her face that not only was he not going to 
marry now, but would probably remain single all his 
life, seeing that his trust in women was irretrievably 
shaken. The thing lay beyond his strength, he could 
not do it. How to avoid doing it he did not clearly 
see, but by every means in his power he would keep 
the truth from her so long as it could be kept. The 
announcement that his engagement was broken would 
probably be her death-sentetnce ; he knew it, and de- 
cided that at no price must it be pronounced. There 
was nothing for it but soothing evasions, patched up 
explanations, to be dragged on from week to week, in 
the vague hope of something happening to prevent the 
terrible disclosure — perhaps death being merciful 
enough to step in before she discovered the truth — 
and then to listen once more to that patient sigh, whose 
sound had become almost intolerable. He had hoped 
that he was done with that dreadful sigh for ever, but 
he knew better now. 

The weeks that followed on the flnal interview 
in the Long Walk were to Sir Louis a period of men- 


130 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


tal stagnation, during which he kept as carefully out 
of the way of the woman whom he had wanted to mar- 
ry as of that of the woman who wanted to marry him. 
He was, in fact, sulking with both girls, angry with 
both — the one for loving him, or pretending to do so, 
and the other for not loving him. It was a relief 
when, before the end of July, Mr. Crossley took his 
daTighter abroad, obviously in order to avoid the un- 
pleasant sensation caused by the breaking off of her 
engagement. There was now only one person to 
avoid, and several more weeks passed before Sir Louis 
discovered that the assiduity which he applied to this 
object was somewhat of a superfluous effort, seeing that 
the little schoolmistress seemed at least as anxious to 
escape a meeting as he himself could possibly be. In 
fact, her avoidance of him was so pointed that there 
seemed some danger of notice being attracted by it. 
He had caught glimpses of her from a distance in the 
village street, obviously coming straight in his direc- 
tion, and then, at sight of him, turning abruptly aside 
and taking another road. At times, even, he had seen 
her hiding in some doorway, or behind some haystack, 
until he should be safely passed; and on the few oc- 
casions when she had not been able to escape, she had 
hurried past him with a haste that was almost ill-man- 
nered, as though afraid of being accosted. AVhat 
could the foolish girl mean by so absurd a caution? 
Did she flatter herself that he had even an eye for her? 
Could she possibly be afraid of any renewal of that 
dallying, five years ago, by which she declared her 
reputation to have been damaged? At this point of 
his reflections a recollection of certain moments at the 
school-feast was apt to bring to Sir Louis a passing 


LADY HEPBURXE. 


131 


qualm of conscience, and probably it was this qualm 
that helped to increase the irritation which — since he 
became fully awake to it — Miss Farthingalbs conduct 
caused him. Why, this was the very way to get her- 
self talked about, and him too, and — reckless though 
his mind was at this time — he had no desire to see his 
name coupled with hers. So strained a position could 
clearly not be kept up. He would put an end to it 
by telling her his opinion as plainly as was allowable 
under the circumstances, and showing her that he at 
least had no reason for shunning a chance meeting 
with an indifferent acquaintance. 

It was for this purpose that, on the very next oc- 
casion that presented itself, Sir Louis straightway ac- 
costed the astonished schoolmistress. 

The meeting took place in one of the steep, stony 
lanes that connected the village with the hills, run- 
ning at the bottom of a winding gulley, as rough al- 
most as the empty bed of a torrent, and lying deep 
between loose walls of stone, over whose grey faces the 
reddening bramble branches straggled brilliantly. 
He was on his way back from the hills, and espied her 
from a distance, just as she turned slowly into the lane, 
evidently in search of a breath of air after school 
hours; but she, apparently, had not seen him until 
she was already far engaged on the path from which 
there was no escape except by turning back. At 
sight of the approaching figure it almost seemed as 
though she had thought of flight, for she stopped 
short, and looked backwards irresolutely, and then 
forwards again. Apparently she began to realize that 
she was caught as in a trap. He thought he could see 
her measuring with her eye the distance to the one 


132 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


opening in the wall which might have given her an 
opportunity for disappearing among the bushes. A 
fresh wave of irritation came over him; this was sim- 
ply childish. He strode forward angrily, bent on in- 
tercepting her; for she had quickened her pace, evi- 
dently determined to make for the gap. His long 
legs, as well as the advantage given him by the steep 
incline, won the race, with the result that when she 
reached the only hole that led out of the trap, she 
found it blocked by his broad figure. 

She stood still for one moment, breathless from 
the quick walk uphill, and then, with a swift, re- 
proachful glance, would have passed on again, but 
he put out his hand. 

I beg your pardon. Miss Farthingall,’’ he said 
in that sort of tone which takes no denial, but would 
you kindly tell me what makes you run away from 
me? ’’ 

She stood before him, still breathing rather fast, 
and hanging her head, but she did not immediately at- 
tempt a reply. 

If any one had happened to witness your ma- 
noeuvre of a minute ago,” went on Sir Louis, merci- 
lessly, what do you suppose they would have im- 
agined? ” 

That I wished to get out of your way,” mur- 
mured the schoolmistress, confusedly. 

And that I had done you some injury, or 
wished to do you some injury else it were not 
possible that you should run from me like a 
mouse from a cat. Has it never occurred to you that 
to shun me so openly is exactly the way to set people 
talking? ” 


LADY HEPBURNE. 


133 


Oh, I hope not! said Miss Farthingall, quick- 
ly. I don’t want to be talked about — again.” 

Sir Louis bit his lip. So far as I am concerned,” 
he remarked, with a somewhat grim emphasis, there 
is no earthly reason why you should be, just as there 
never was any reason for your having been talked 
about — you know that as well as I do, even though it 
may have amused some old women to make fairy tales 
out of a couple of walks which we took together once 
upon a time, and a couple of roses which I cut for you 
in the garden — everyday episodes, which meant noth- 
ing either to you or to me.” 

He laughed rather loudly, bent upon giving a 
lighter turn to the conversation. 

Again Miss Farthingall said nothing. He watched 
her lowered face with angry curiosity. Her silence 
irritated him beyond measure; it seemed to say so 
plainly, To you, yes, but not to me! ” 

Decidedly it was best to clear up matters once for 
all, even at the risk of being a little brutal. 

If you suppose you have any reason for reproach- 
ing me with what was at most a very pardonable im- 
prudence of conduct at the time I first met you in my 
cousin’s house,” he began with some of the haughti- 
ness of the aristocrat, who, despite his theoretical 
breadth of ideas, never really loses sight in practice 
of the differences of social position. 

Eeproach you! Oh, Sir Louis!” And the 
blue eyes looked into his face for one moment, and 
then down again to the dust at his feet. There was 
so deep a humility both in the voice and the glance 
that Sir Louis coloured with vexation at himself, 
ashamed of the tone he had just used. I should never 


134 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


dream of reproaching you, whatever had been, and 
whatever I had suffered; but as it is, of course you 
are not to blame, it was all my own fault, my own 

folly; I never should have allowed myself She 

broke off, and then added hurriedly, But surely you 
will understand that my good name is to me all the 
fortune I have, and I have no choice but to guard 
it carefully? 

No doubt; but in my opinion you are setting 
the wrong way about it. There is no earthly reason, 
for instance, why you should hide in a doorway when 
I am coming dowm the street. You must give up that 
sort of nonsense. Miss Farthingall.’’ 

I dare say you are right, and perhaps I have 

been over-cautious, but ’’ 

She hesitated, stirring a prematurely fallen leaf 
with the point of her slender foot. 

But what? ” he impatiently asked. 

It was not my good name alone that I 'was think- 
ing of ; there was another reason as well. I — I could 
not help fancying that after — after all that has hap- 
pened, the sight of me might be unpleasant to you.’^ 

What do you mean ? ’’ he asked, with a return 
of the haughty tone. 

About your engagement,’’ she faltered, almost 
inaudibly. Nobody guesses how it came to be 
broken off, but I know, alas! that I myself was the 
innocent cause of that — that misfortune. My one 
consolation,” she added, more hurriedly, lies in the 
thought that perhaps, after all, it was a mercy in dis- 
guise; but of course you cannot look at it in that way, 
and of course I know that to see me must be to re- 
mind you of what you have lost. It is only natural 


LADY HEPBURNE. 


135 


that you should hate me; but, oh, it is hard to 
bear! 

The last words seemed to have been spoken against 
her will, and this time when she looked up there were 
tears, real genuine tears, dimming the blueness of her 
eyes. This time, too, they did not drop again so 
quickly, but hung on his face, slowly dilating, as 
though they could not again unfasten themselves, 
while from between her parted lips her breath came 
quicker and always quicker. 

Sir Louis looked at her, taken aback by the pas- 
sion that rung in her tone, and betrayed itself in the 
dilating eyes and heaving breast. However incon- ^ 
venient and unwonted was this devotion, it was im- 
possible not to be moved by the sight, just as it was 
impossible not to feel mollified by the discovery that 
the explanation of her strange behaviour lay as much 
in consideration for his feelings as for hers. 

There is no question of hating,’^ he said, with 
a sort of gruff kindness of tone. What has been has 
been, and you are not responsible for it. All I want 
to say is that, if you want to avoid gossip, you had 
better give up your exaggerated caution for the fu- 
ture ; it is quite superfiuous, seeing that no one knows 
of our former acquaintance. Therefore I want you 
to promise that you will not run out of my path when- 
ever you happen to cross it.’’ 

I will do as you bid me,” said Miss Farthingall, 
submissively. 

And the next minute they were each going their 
several ways, and each with a head full of new 
thoughts. 

It is true that no one knows of our former ac- 


136 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


quaintance/^ Miss Farthingall was saying to herself 
thoughtfully as she slowly climbed the path, but 
that is no reason why they should not find out.’’ 

Sir Louis, on his side, as he descended towards the 
village, could not get rid of the surprise he had felt 
when the schoolmistress had given him that look, and 
of the recollection of the fiame which had sprung to 
her eyes, drying up the tears in one moment. In the 
days of their earlier acquaintance he had never even 
deemed her capable of such emotions. Either she 
must have changed very much since that time, or else 
he had mistaken her all along. 

At home there were again his mother’s eyes to 
encounter, with the standing question in them. 

She has had to go away with her father,” he pa- 
tiently explained. She is not quite well, but she 
will soon come back again, and then we shall be 
married.” 

The ingeniously varied lies came quite glibly by 
this time, but for how much longer would they be 
able to go on? 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

THE TIGER-LILY. 

From this time on Miss Earthingall no longer hid 
in doorways nor slipped behind haystacks when she 
saw Sir Louis coming down the street. It was the 
natural result of the conversation last recorded, and 
exactly as it should be. Indeed, once she had re- 
nounced those exaggerated precautions. Sir Louis had 
nothing further to complain of in the schoolmistress. 
On the several occasions when the interests of the 
school or the obligations of near neighbourhood 
brought about some unavoidable meeting, he even 
found himself forced to acknowledge the admirable 
tact which made it possible, even though he believed 
now that he was loved — how could he doubt it after 
that moment of undisguised emotion in the lane? — 
to meet and talk like mere acquaintances. It was 
evident that she had put a strong guard upon herself, 
for her bearing had become the very perfection of 
discretion, with only rare moments of half betrayal, 
and as many swift, seemingly unwilling glances as 
were wanted to keep alive in him the consciousness 
that here lay a heart at his disposal. Miss Earthingall 
had a wonderful knack for hitting off the middle in 
everything. A little more display would have fright- 
137 


138 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


ened him off, a little less might have left him too 
cool; but the measure being perfect, it was only na- 
tural that he should feel vaguely touched by this hum- 
ble devotion, and all the more so for its being so evi- 
dent that it expected no return. Occasionally after 
one of those moments of self-betrayal which showed 
him, as though by the drawing away of a veil, to what 
extent he was loved, his thoughts would turn uneasily 
backwards, and he would put himself through a spe- 
cies of examination of conscience with regard to those 
fatal three weeks spent with the Macallans. Had he 
really been so imprudent as the result seemed to im- 
ply? Did the havoc done to Miss Farthingalhs feel- 
ings, as well as to her reputation, actually lie at his 
door? At the first hearing his sober common sense had 
laughed the idea to scorn, but under the influence of 
constant meetings with her — of which he could not 
be aware that they were not always due entirely to 
chancer— it was unavoidable that he should reconsider 
the question. He certainly was under the impression 
that he had not gone beyond the limits of fair play, 
but that had been five years ago. He was younger 
then, more hot-headed, no doubt also more foolish; at 
this distance of time it was difticult to gauge the ex- 
act nature of a glance or a pressure of the hand, or 
whatever it was that had done the harm. The more 
he looked back, the more he began to distrust his mem- 
ory, and the more uneasily his conscience stirred. It 
seemed scarcely credible that she should have loved 
him so long and so faithfully if he had not given her 
some ground for the belief that she was loved again. 
Oh, if another woman had been able to love in this 
fashion! How different would his life be now! It 


THE TIGER-LILY. 


139 


was thus that his reflections generally ended, with the 
sigh, half pain, half resentment, which escaped him 
whenever he thought of his recreant and — in his eyes 
— flckle bride. 

But even while condemning her, he could not 
quite repress a certain curiosity with regard to the ex- 
act state of her feelings at the moment of the rupture. 
Had she actually believed in his guilt, or had she 
feigned this belief for the sake of masking her own 
unstableness? Was it jealousy which had extin- 
guished love, or had there never been any love to ex- 
tinguish ? He would have given a good deal to know. 
The only person who would be likely to know was 
Miss Farthingall, her short acquaintance with whom 
seemed to have been full of mutual confldences. He 
began to consider the feasibility of indirectly ap- 
proaching the question, and more than one of his 
accostings of Miss Farthingall were due to his inten- 
tion of making the attempt, but had ended without 
his having found courage to do so. Twice, regardless 
of the notice he might thereby be attracting, he had 
accompanied her to the door of the schoolhouse. On 
the occasion of the fourth or flfth meeting, however, 
curiosity triumphed over the dread which held him 
back. 

By-the-by,’^ he began abruptly, quite forgetting 
that he had meant to lead up to the subject, you 
said something the other day which I should like 
explained.^’ 

Yes? ’’ said Miss Farthingall, inquiringly, and 
perhaps a trifle startled. 

Yes— that time we met in the lane. You were 
speaking of the breaking-off of my engagement, and 
10 


uo 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


you made some remark about its perhaps having been 
a mercy in disguise. What did you exactly mean 
by that? ’’ 

Oh/’ said the schoolmistress, trying not to look 
relieved, that was only something that passed 
through my mind — it only escaped me. You really 
must not ask me to explain.” 

But I do ask you. You shouldn’t have let it 
escape you if you didn’t mean to speak out.” 

Well, you see,” she reluctantly began, I have 
rather — romantic ideas about marriage, and one of my 
notions is that the love on both sides should be equal.” 

I see. And you have reason to suppose that 
in this case it was not equal? ” 

I never said ” 

Of course not, because you cannot violate Miss 
Crossley’s confidence; but I know quite enough al- 
ready. You are telling me no secrets when you tell 
me that my reign in that quarter was short.” 

He spoke with darkening eyes and a scornful ring 
in his deep voice. 

Miss Fartliingall glanced up at him, and walked 
on a few paces in silence. 

You must not be hard on her,” she said thought- 
fully. It is not her fault if her faith in you stum- 
bled over the first obstacle that came in the way. 
Some women require more devotion than they give — 
it is their nature; every one cannot love in the same 
way.” 

It was said quite naturally, in an almost matter- 
of-fact tone. 

You seem to know more about it than I do,” 
said Sir Louis, looking at her with one of those move- 


THE TIGER-LILY. 


141 


ments of distrust, which still occasionally came over 
him, and were a remnant of the original low estima- 
tion in which he had held this woman. 

Instead of replying to his remark, she stopped 
short. 

I think we had better say good-bye here. I 
see the Tiger-Lily — I beg your pardon. Miss Ward — 
coming out of the grocer^s shop. She always buys 
her tea here, because it’s better than at Heywood, she 
says. I don’t want to be over-cautious, since you’ve 
forbidden me that, but she would certainly not ap- 
prove of your walking with me — and you know how 
she talks! ” And with a smile, half mischievous, 
half pathetic, the little schoolmistress darted nimbly 
from his side and across the street. 

There passed another week or two, and presently, 
to his great annoyance, various remarks dropped by 
various people told Sir Louis that the secret of his for- 
mer acquaintance with Miss Farthingall, and even 
the fact of her dismissal on his account, was known 
in the neighbourhood. How it came to be known 
he could not imagine. Florence would certainly be 
too proud to speak of what she knew; and it stood to 
reason, or seemed to him to stand to reason, that the 
only other person acquainted with the facts of the case, 
viz.. Miss Farthingall herself, would not be the one 
to spread the report — only another proof of how little 
he knew the woman he had to deal with. 

It had been on the very day of the talk about the 
broken engagement that Miss Ward, shortly after her 
exit from the grocer’s shop, had come into possession 
of the facts. 

Miss Farthingall had barely had time to take off 


142 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


her hat, when the doctor’s spinster sister entered the 
school-honse close on her heels, and obviously in one 
of her most aggressive humours. Beyond her self- 
constituted mission for controlling the morals of the 
neighbourhood, the Tiger-Lily had private reasons for 
keeping an especially sharp look-out on the school- 
mistress, and the sight she had just enjoyed on leaving 
the grocer’s shop was as fuel to the fire of her indig- 
nation. 

At sight of her visitor. Miss Farthingall broke 
into a beaming smile. She knew now for certain 
that she had been seen with Sir Louis. 

I wonder what made you run away from me 
just now,” began Miss Ward, having first in funereal 
silence, sat down on the chair offered. It almost 
looked as though you were afraid of me.” 

I was in a hurry.” 

You didn’t look in much of a hurry while you 
were talking to Sir Louis. Was it school business 
you were discussing, by-the-by?” 

No; as it happens it was not school business.” 

Humph! I should have thought it was the 
most natural thing to talk about to a schoolmistress 
who is also a stranger.” 

Miss Farthingall paused for one moment before 
speaking, and rapidly reviewed the situation. She 
saw that this was her opportunity for carrying out 
an idea which, ever since that first meeting in the lane, 
had floated before her mind’s eye, but whose realiza- 
tion had, until now, appeared premature. What she 
meant to do was apparently a great imprudence, and 
even now she was aware that a certain risk attached to 
it; but the truth was that, despite her cool head, her 


THE TIGER-LILY. 


143 


hot heart was beginning to grow ‘ impatient, and 
pushed her to do something which might precipitate 
the action. If ever she meant to carry out the idea 
this was the right moment, as the Tiger-Lily was un- 
doubtedly the right person. To this thought she suc- 
cumbed. 

Not quite a stranger,^^ she murmured, after that 
pause. 

Miss "Ward’s sunken eyes opened a little. 

Not a stranger? Why, I thought you met him 
for the first time at the school-feast? ” 

Not for the first time. I thought he had per- 
haps mentioned to you that I had had a situation with 
his cousins, the Macallans, and that he had been on a 
visit there during the time.” 

No, he never mentioned anything,” said Miss 
AVard, sitting more upright on her chair, while her 
arid cheek actually began to show some signs of cir- 
culating blood. This was beginning to be interesting. 

And you made his acquaintance there? ” 

Unluckily I did,” said Miss Farthingall, and 
then broke off short. With the same breath she be- 
gan to talk of something else. This was enough. 
She knew that, once put upon the scent, the Tiger-Lily 
would find out the rest for herself, and, of course, she 
did. To such an expert as she was, the Macallans 
name was clue enough; within a week she knew all 
about the flirtation, the dismissal, and the banishment 
to Australia, and, knowing it, she hugged herself for 
joy. AVhy, this was exactly what she wanted! If 
these disclosures were not enough to open the eyes 
of her poor, infatuated brother, then his case was des- 
perate indeed. 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

YE BANKS AND BRAES.’^ 

It was about tbis time that those annoying reports 
began to circulate in the neighbourhood. They 
would have provoked Sir Louis even mor than they did 
had they not been accompanied by another and much 
more opportune piece of news; for it had come to 
his ears that Dr. Ward himself, the staid, middle-aged, 
and apparently incurably bachelor doctor, had fallen 
a victim to the blue eyes of the schoolmistress, and, 
despite the desperate resistance of his sister, was show- 
ing signs of coming forward as a suitor for her hand. 
From the moment of learning this. Sir Louis breathed 
more freely. Miss Farthingall’s marriage would be 
the removal of many difficulties, and the final smooth- 
ing away of all those qualms of conscience which had 
lately been slowly but unavoidably awakening. And, 
despite his knowledge of her devotion to himself, 
he could scarcely doubt that, if only the doctor dared 
to brave his sister, the marriage would actually come 
off; for this devotion acknowledged itself to be hope- 
less, and the doctor was a well-to-do man, not yet past 
the prime of life, altogether a prize such as rarely falls 
to the share of a village schoolmistress. 

But this new feeling of satisfaction was short- 
144 


YE BANKS AND BBAES/ 


145 


lived. It was from the lips of his younger sister (who, 
after spending the season in London under the wing 
of Mrs. Kipon, the former Miss Hepburne, joined 
him about this time), that Sir Louis heard the news 
which not only destroyed it in one moment, but set 
his conscience stirring far more uneasily than be- 
fore. 

Edith Hepburne was a large, mild, fair-haired 
person, pretty enough in a limp and wholly unex- 
citing sort of way. She had her mother’s mild, brown 
eyes, but the gentleness of Lady Hepburne’s disposi- 
tion had, in her daughter, degenerated into a humility 
so ostentatious as to be almost irritating, more espe- 
cially as there seemed to exist no plausible reason for 
it. Despite every advantage of position and edu- 
cation, this distinctly good-looking girl seemed to sink 
quite naturally to the last place, wherever she showed 
herself, and, once there, lacked either the energy or the 
inclination to move upwards. It had been in accord- 
ance with her brother’s wishes that she had, on her 
arrival, taken charge of a Sunday class. She had no 
aptitude whatever for the task, being one of those 
people who seem born to obey rather than to be 
obeyed; but the idea of disputing Louis’s will — or, 
indeed, the will of any one who came near her — never 
so much as occurred to her. 

It was after one of these Sunday ordeals that, 
reachinghome rather later than usual, she began thank- 
fully to pour out the cold tea, which could in a mo- 
ment have been replaced by a fresh beverage had she 
possessed self-assertion enough to ring the bell and 
give the order. 

You are late,” said Sir Louis, in a low tone, for 


U6 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


his mother was slumbering in her chair at the other 
side of the room. 

Yes; I was talking with Miss Farthingall. I 
hope you did not want anything? she added apolo- 
getically. 

Not I! but I fancied you had gone for a walk, 
and half wished I had joined you.’’ 

No; it was Miss Farthingall. We were mak- 
ing out a list of the books we need.” 

Edith began slowly pulling the gloves off her 
full, white hands, but it was only after she had been 
staring thoughtfully into her tea-cup for some 
moments that she added, still in the subdued tone in 
which they were talking, I wonder if she has acted 
wisely? ” 

In what way? ” 

In refusing Dr. Ward. Fie seems such a good 
man.” 

Nonsense!” said Sir Louis, more startled than 
he wanted to betray. She can’t have refused him. 
I don’t believe he has even proposed yet.” 

Yes he has,” answered Edith, with the depre- 
cating air she always wore when forced to utter a 
contradiction of any sort. She told me so herself. 
It was only yesterday, and she refused him.” 

But you told me that you had been making out 
a book-list.” 

Yes; but we soon got done, and somehow the 
talk turned to other things, and then the doctor was 
mentioned, and she let out the secret, thinking that I 
had heard it already.” 

What can have possessed her? ” said Sir Louis, 
pulling angrily at his moustache. 


YE BANKS AND BRAES/ 


147 


Edith sighed sympathetically, for her heart was 
as soft as her yielding white flesh. 

Well, of course she didn^t tell me that; but 
from some remarks she made it is evident that she 
cares for somebody else so much that she can’t make 
up her mind to any other marriage.” 

And didn’t you give her your opinion on the 
matter? ” asked Sir Louis, almost glaring at his sister. 

Didn’t you try to show her the folly of it? ” 

I! Oh, Louis, how could I? What right have 
I to advise? ” 

He smiled bitterly as he contemplated her. No, 
she was not the sort of person to give an adverse opin- 
ion, even if she happened to have one. 

That evening he took a walk in the hills — his 
usual recipe for working off a flt of ill humour, of 
which he felt a sharp attack to-day. The Farthing- 
all difficulty,” which had seemed on the point of being 
cleared away, had returned upon him in full force. 
Not that, even were she safely married, could his 
thoughts ever again turn towards Florence, who had 
renounced him of her own free will, having recog- 
nized her affection for him as insufficient. Never 
again would he sue for her favour; but to see Miss 
Farthingall provided for would, nevertheless, be an 
extraordinary satisfaction — the only way he could see 
for putting finally to rest the scruples which had been 
weighing on him half the summer, and which the re- 
port now pervading the neighbourhood had awak- 
ened into greater activity. Despite what Florence 
used to call his matter-of-factness,” he was begin- 
ning to feel worried and puzzled. To find his name 
once more thus unaccountably coupled with that of 


148 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Miss Farthingall, irritated him, of course, but also per- 
plexed him. Go out of her way as much as he liked, 
he could not escape the feeling that he was somehow 
entangled in obligations, about whose origin he did 
not feel quite clear in his mind. Since every one 
appeared so unanimous on the point of his guilt, was 
it not possible that the majority was right, and that 
he was wrong? And the worst of it was that he could 
make no reproach to the cause of all this inconven- 
ience; for Miss Farthingall, to judge from a fresh 
access of reserve, was as much put out by it as he him- 
self. 

A chance circumstance had helped to heighten 
his ill humour that same evening on which he had 
learnt the news of the doctor^s rejection. He was 
on his way back to the castle in the dusk when, from 
somewhere close by, a soft, low voice was heard croon- 
ing a familiar melody, one which he had often heard 
in the north when staying with his cousins — 

“ Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose, 

Frae off its thorny tree ; 

And my fause lover staw the rose, 

But left the thorn wi’ me ! ” 

The sound came from somewhere close at hand, 
and, looking about him, he perceived that he had 
inadvertently taken the road which ran past the back 
of the school-house, and that the plaintively uttered 
words which reached his ear came from the open win- 
dow of the schoolmistress’s room. 

With an oath upon his lips he quickened his pace, 
but for the rest of that evening he kept the burden 
of Ye Banks and Braes ” in his head, and, do what 


‘•YE BANKS AND BRAES/ 


149 


he would, he could not help recalling a certain even- 
ing in Scotland five years ago, during which he had 
assisted his little cousins’ governess in gathering roses 
for the table, and taken so much time over it as to earn 
for Miss Farthingall a severe reprimand. He re- 
membered, too, that she had pricked her finger badly 
in the process, and that he had bound it up for her 
with her handkerchief. Trivial- circumstances, all 
these had hitherto appeared to him, but, looked back 
upon in the light of recent events, they were begin- 
ning to grow unpleasantly important. 

“ And my fause lover staw the rose, 

But left the thorn wi’ me.” 

Was he really the false lover of the song, the cruel 
leaver-behind of the thorn, whose fickleness had been 
immortalized in one of the most pathetic melodies 
ever written? And could really no one but he ex- 
tract that painful thorn which had, to all appearances, 
stabbed to the heart an innocent young life? 

After all, why not? The idea came to him with- 
out preparation, and he laughed a reckless laugh, as 
he put the wild, sullen question to himself. He had 
nothing else to hope for, and would it not be a fine way 
of showing his faithless bride that he could live with- 
out her, as she without him? There seemed to be 
something grimly humorous in the notion of taking 
her at her word. 

For a minute or two he played with the idea, then 
let it drop again. He had not taken it seriously, even 
for one moment, knowing that he could not do the 
thing. 

Meanwhile, as time dragged on into late autumn. 


150 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


the task of blinding his mother became more and more 
difficult. Some sort of suspicion was evidently stirring 
in her, for she began to look at him again with the old, 
anxious question in her eyes. The fluctuations in her 
mental state made it at all times a difficult task to deal 
with her; to moments of unexpected clearness there 
would follow periods during which she no longer 
knew why she wanted this thing, why it was that Louis 
was to be married, though never for a moment did she 
lose her hold upon the idea that he must get married. 
Occasionally she would look at him with a dawning 
intelligence in her eyes, so real that he trembled in 
the knowledge of his secret, and then, before a ques- 
tion was spoken, the cloud would return, the mists 
would gather again, as they do over a spot on the hills 
in autumn, gathering and dispersing and shifting a 
little, and gathering again, but never entirely disap- 
pearing. 

But despite the merciful mist. Sir Louis felt daily 
more plainly that the truth would soon have to be 
told, and at the mere thought he quaked like a child 
in fear of punishment. 

Matters were in this state when, on a singularly 
mild afternoon towards the end of October, Sir Louis, 
coming out of the Stonefleld gates, caught sight of 
Miss Farthingall rapidly mounting the hill towards 
the castle. The village lay close below, on the 
mediaeval plan of feeling safe only under the very 
castle walls, but the schoolmistress had never ap- 
proached the house so near before, and had shown 
singular tact in this. Sir Louis had thought; it was all 
the more astonishing to see her here to-day. She 
looked as though she had urgent business in hand, and. 


“YE BANKS AND BRAES. 


151 


although he-^had been on the point of starting in the 
opposite direction^ he stood still and waited for her 
approach. 

Nothing wrong at the school, I hope?’’ he in- 
quired as she reached him. 

Well, yes, rather; that is why I came. One 
of the children was taken ill this forenoon, and I 
think myself it’s scarlet fever, but as Dr. Bridges is 
away in London, I haven’t had an opinion yet, and I 
came to ask you if you could kindly send a carriage 
for Dr. Ward, for if it is scarlet fever of course we’ll 
have to close the school.” 

Of course. This is rather serious. Stand back. 
Miss Farthingall, or you’ll be run over! ” 

The heavy iron gates which opened from the 
stone-paved courtyard straight on to the road had 
just swung open, and Lady Hepburne, with her 
daughter by her side, appeared, seated in the roomy, 
luxurious landau, which had been built expressly for 
her use, and in which she regularly took the air, when- 
ever the weather permitted. Seen thus reclining 
among her cushions, and muffled in costly wraps, she 
was a stately figure still, and only the strange empti- 
ness in the widely opened eyes betrayed that all was 
not as it had always been. As the large vehicle slowly 
passed between the gates, the brown eyes passed un- 
easily from side to side, as though in search of some- 
thing. Suddenly they fell upon Louis and his com- 
panion, remained fixed for one moment, and then be- 
gan to kindle; the large, thin mouth twitched nerv- 
ously. 

Stop I ” she almost shrieked to the coachman, 
as she straightened herself on her seat; and then. 


152 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


bending over the side of the carriage, stretched her 
two hands to the astonished schoolmistress. 

At last! You have come at last! she uttered 
in shaking accents. I have been waiting for you 
so long.^’ 

Miss Farthingall looked at Louis in perplexity. 

But, mother,’’ he began. But she would not 

listen. 

Yes, yes, I know; you were bringing her to 
me. Yes, I understand. I will turn back at once. 
I will not drive to-day. Oh, Flo, my dearest Flo, 
how I have waited for you! It was time you came! 
Oh, I believe the joy will kill me! ” 

With the last words she sank back on the seat, 
her mouth twitching ever faster, while a leaden pallor 
began to spread over her features. 

It won’t do to contradict her,” said Sir Louis, 
in a quick undertone. 

I understand,” whispered back Miss Farthingall; 
having already grasped the situation. It can’t 
really matter who she takes me for.” 

You should have come sooner! Why did you 
not come sooner? ” Lady Hepburne was murmuring 
faintly, while the colour ebbed from her cheek. 

She could not come sooner, mother; it was im- 
possible. Mother! ” he cried again, in a louder and 
more startled tone, stepping close up to the carriage; 
but she had already lost consciousness. 

He had not seen the first paralytic stroke, but the 
terror within him made him guess what this was. 

Can you ever forgive me?” asked Miss Far- 
thingall an hour later. She was standing with Sir 


YE BANKS AND BRAES. 


153 


Louis in the big, empty, drawing-room, having been 
one of those to assist in carrying the unconscious old 
lady to bed, and to render her the first assistance. 
It was indeed a stroke, but a far slighter one than the 
first had been, and already the danger seemed past. 

It was my fault that this happened; if she 
had not seen me, the excitement would not have 
been.^’ 

No, it is not your fault that this happened,’’ 
answered Sir Louis, in a hard voice. It is the fault 
of somebody quite different. I have not to forgive, 
but to thank you. If you had denied your role at 
that moment, the excitement would have been far 
greater, the results certainly much worse. She will 
be happy now when she awakes.” And to himself he 
added, hopelessly, I would to God that I could leave 
her in her delusion! ” 

Why not? The thought flashed through him 
again as he stood opposite to the schoolmistress. It 
had come to him more than once lately, only to be 
rejected as something too grotesque to be taken quite 
seriously. This time he actually looked the idea in 
the face, but once more he turned from it. No doubt 
it would be a solution of the difficulties — of his atti- 
tude towards his mother, but as yet he did not con- 
sider it a possible thing to do. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

THE HILL FOOL. 

On a late day in November, Miss Eartbingall 
turned her face towards the hills. She had plenty 
of time for herself now, for the scarlet fever had ac- 
tually broken out, and the school had been closed, and 
she spent a not inconsiderable part of her leisure in 
taking long walks in the directions best calculated to 
bring about occasional chance meetings with Sir 
Louis. To-day, indeed, she had no expectation of 
seeing him, for hunting had begun, and she knew that 
there had been a meet that morning at a village some 
distance off. But she took her walk all the same, 
although the afternoon was anything but an inviting 
one. The morning had been almost mild, but the 
north wind had arrived at midday, bringing with it a 
keen frost. The ground rang much harder than it 
had done a few hours ago, and the puddles began to 
crackle underfoot. In the western horizon there was 
a pile of dangerous-looking blue-grey clouds, which 
seemed to promise snow before evening, while some 
half-dozen gulls, driven inland by the stress of com- 
ing weather, darted restlessly backwards and forwards 
over the head of the solitary walker, filling the air 
with their short, ill-tempered cry. 

154 


THE HILL FOOL. 


155 


But Miss Farthingall scarcely noticed her sur- 
roundings, for she was deep in thought, and not very 
satisfied thought, as the expression of her face be- 
trayed. It was because, like most other people, she 
could think best when in motion that she had braved 
the wind to-day. 

A month had passed since that most opportune 
mistake made by Lady Hepburne, and nothing further 
had happened. A feeling, not exactly of discourage- 
ment, but of depression, was on her — a mood to which 
her undaunted spirit seldom yielded, and in which, 
doubtless, the weather bore its share. She could not 
be sure that she was making progress, for she had not 
seen much of Sir Louis lately. Was this accident or 
design? Had she, perhaps, not been too precipitate 
in letting loose the tongues of gossip, and thus de- 
feated her own end? She was wondering now what 
further step she could take. One of her secrets of 
success was the faculty of turning everything and 
every one into instruments. Thus she had made use 
of Miss Ward for one purpose, and of Edith Hepburne 
for another, knowing well that the news of her re- 
fusal of the doctor could not help reaching Sir Louis’s 
ears when confided to his sister. Lady Hepburne had 
unconsciously offered herself as an instrument. Was 
there any one else who could serve her ends? 

As for the doctor himself, it is certain that at 
any other moment she would have closed with his 
offer, for she was not as ambitious as she- once had 
been. But just now she was playing for a much 
higher stake and, after a brief review of the situation, 
had determined to risk everything for its attainment. 
Tliis proposal itself ought to help her a step nearer 
11 


156 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


to her goal. Besides, the doctor was short and podgy, 
and by no means satisfied what she called her aes- 
thetic tastes.’’ 

Well, I suppose something will turn up! ” was 
the thought with which she concluded her refiections. 
It had always been her principle that things ” gen- 
erally turn up, and that all you had to do was to be 
on the look out, as she had told the sick Bella that 
day in May, when she had sat beside her in the Lon- 
don attic; and to this thought she always returned for 
comfort when she needed it. 

It is not that I have more opportunities than 
other people,” she had said another time, but that 
I know how to make use of them.” The old remedy 
worked once more. She walked on more briskly, her 
sanguine spirit rising in proportion to the more rapid 
circulation of the blood. 

Something is sure to turn up ! ” And as she 
said it she could not guess how very near that some- 
thing was that was destined to turn up. 

By this time she was deep in one of the bare little 
valleys that wound away among the hills. As even- 
ing approached, the cold was increasing. A little 
rill, which in the recent rains had overflowed its . bed 
and spread itself broadly over the hillside, had within 
the last few hours been arrested by the frost and 
turned into bits of broken glass. All at once, behind 
a big boulder close at hand, there was a clatter of roll- 
ing stones. Miss Farthingall started slightly, for she 
had met no living thing since quitting the village. 
She was- still wondering what it could be, when from 
behind the rock a fine bay mare came trotting quietly 
past her, with its bridle hanging loose. Quickly she 


THE HILL FOOL. 


157 


put out her hand, her first instinct being to catch the 
riderless beast, but at sight of her movement the horse 
gave a plunge, and disappeared in the Stonefield direc- 
tion. 

Somebody had had a fall out hunting, she told 
herself without much interest at first, as she pursued 
her way. Well, it was no great wonder, with this 
sudden frost and so many slippery places to cross. 

Presently, however, she stood still again, fright- 
ened by a thought that had come to her — Might not 
the fallen man be Sir Louis? She remembered dis- 
tinctly having seen him riding just such a bay as this 
one, and, besides, the horse had taken the direction of 
Stonefield, and it would know its way to its stable. 

Supposing he were badly hurt? Supposing ? 

She shivered in genuine alarm, remembering the end 
of the last baronet. Sir Philip, who had found his 
death over one of the stone walls of this most unride- 
able country. Could it be that Sir Louis had shared 
his brother’s fate? 

She walked on faster, looking anxiously from side 
to side, in hopes of catching sight of the dismounted 
rider, but only naked boulders and withered furze met 
her eye. Several minutes had passed when, turning 
a sharp corner, she came close upon a man walking to- 
wards her. She knew him by sight: it was old Job 
Limple, who lived by himself in the very depth of 
this hilly desert, with neither chick nor child belong- 
ing to him, and who was but rarely seen in Stonefield 
except on Saturdays, when he emerged from his her- 
mitage, laden with the rush baskets which he had 
fashioned during the week, and on whose produce he 
managed to exist. It was not Saturday to-day, and 


158 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


although, from force of habit, J ob’s back curved visi- 
bly under an imaginary burden, there really was not 
so much as a single basket visible about him. lie 
was a sturdy old man for his age; but either he was 
by nature only one step removed from an idiot, or 
else prolonged solitude had dulled his originally not 
over brilliant mental powers. At any rate, the ap- 
pellation of The Hill Fool,^’ by which he usually 
went, was not wholly undeserved, even though he pos- 
sessed wit enough to earn his living — which even wise 
people occasionally find a dilficulty about. Had Miss 
Farthingall not stopped him, he would have scuttled 
past her with a touch of his leather cap; for — prob- 
ably owing to the gaps which long disuse had made in 
his vocabulary — he dreaded nothing so much as hav- 
ing to speak. 

But Miss Farthingall had no idea of letting him 
escape. This was exactly the man from whom she 
might hope to get the information she wanted. 

Tell me,’’ she said, laying her hand on his fus- 
tian sleeve in order to arrest him, ‘‘ have you not seen 
Sir Louis? I believe he has had a fall. The baronet, 
you know? ” die repeated, shaking his sleeve a little. 

Job Limple’s eyes first wandered to the sky, then 
to the hillside, and finally to the ground. It was only 
when there was nothing else to look at that they re- 
turned perforce to Miss Farthingall’s face. 

‘‘ Eh — the baronet,” he reluctantly repeated. 

Have you seen him? ” 

Again Job’s eyes made the round of the horizon, 
while he evidently struggled with the dislike he felt 
to open his lips a second time. Miss Farthingall, in 
an agony of impatience, watched the foolish old face. 


THE HILL FOOL. 


159 


with its limp fringe of white hair framing the weather- 
beaten chin and cheeks. She knew that it was no use 
to hurry him. 

He^s at my place/^ he uttered at last, with a 
supreme effort, and would have hurriedly gone by. 

At your place? In your house? Then he isn’t 
killed? Thank Heaven! Is he badly hurt? ” 

It’s his foot, I’m thinking,” Job managed to 
say, after having studied a particular stone at his own 
feet intently for some moments. 

A few more questions, added to a great deal more 
patience, succeeded in convincing Miss Farthingall 
that the injury could not be very serious. 

And he has sent you for the doctor, I suppose? ” 
she asked, much relieved. 

Job nodded, thankful for the small mercy of being 
spared at least a monosyllable. 

And Sir Louis is all alone up there? ” 

Another nod. 

I see,” she said, and remained thoughtful for a 
moment, still standing in such a position as to bar Job 
Limple’s passage on the narrow path. 

As she rapidly reviewed the situation she was 
gnawing gently at her under lip. There were pos- 
sibilities here — great possibilities — and the question 
was — how to make the best use of them? ” 

Listen!” she said, after a minute. Was it 
Dr. Bridges that Sir Louis told you to fetch? ” And 
when he had signified Yes,” she went on, Well, it 
is lucky you met me, for I happen to know that Dr. 
Bridges is not at home; you will have to go for Dr. 
Ward. It is further off, of course, but that doesn’t 
matter, for Dr. Ward is a better doctor, at any rate. 


160 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


You needn’t go into Stonefield at all — that would only 
lose time: do you understand me? — but just take the 
path that leads straight down the hill, and go off 
direct to Hey wood. In two hours Dr. Ward can 
be here, and I will look after Sir Louis mean- 
while. Have you quite understood what you have 
to do?” 

I’m to faitch Dr. Ward,” he brought out after 
the usual interval. 

AVithin the next minute the Hill Fool, bent under 
the imaginary rush baskets, was once more trudging 
down-hill, while Miss Farthingall hurried upwards 
with flying pulses and a heart that was beating half 
in alarm and half in exultation. It was rather a risky 
thing that she had done, but she thought it worth do- 
ing. By sending Job Limple for Dr. AVard instead 
of for Dr. Bridges, she would gain at least three hours 
alone with Sir Louis — three hours during which she 
would appear before his eyes in the light of a saving 
angel; hours, therefore, that were worth immeasur- 
ably more than twice that number under ordinary 
circumstances. She knew that Job would do exactly 
as she had told him, for a sheep-like, uninquiring obe- 
dience was one of his chief virtues. Indeed, he would 
have started for London on foot just as readily, if he 
had been ordered, and would never even have thought 
of telling any one his errand on the way. Then, 
again, the risk was really not great; Dr. Bridges might 
very possibly not be at home, though she had no par- 
ticular reason for believing so; and if any one should 
wonder at the more distant doctor having been sent 
for, it would of course be put down to the idiocy of the 
Hill Fool, who, in order to justify himself, would have 


THE HILL FOOL. 


161 


to speakj and would therefore certainly remain unjus- 
tified. 

Ten minutes’ rapid walking brought her to Job 
Limple’s place/’ — a rough stone construction, 
perched on the edge of what had once been a big 
quarry. Thirty years ago, when the quarry had been 
in full swing, this house had been built to serve as a 
sleeping-place for those of the workmen who came 
from a distance, and as a refuge for all in bad weather. 
No more stones were carted away now, for it had 
proved an unprofitable undertaking, and the disused 
quarry had been seized upon by heather and gorse and 
fern, but the refuge hut still stood, and Job Limple 
still lived on there, as in the days when he had worked 
here as a quarryman, and no one disputed his right 
to do so, seeing that no one envied him his abode. 

The wind was sweeping round and round the soli- 
tary house, and whistled mournfully among the 
dead winter grass, as Miss Farthingall paused before 
the door to draw breath. The path ceased here — it 
had never gone further than the quarry, which had 
been its only reason for existence. In the hollow, 
which fell away in a sheer descent almost at her feet, 
she could see the brown, broken-backed bracken that 
grew in the clefts of the stone, swaying from side to 
side; but down in the depth the bushes were hard to 
distinguish, for the November dusk was upon the 
world already. 

From inside the house there came no sound. Per- 
haps he had fainted? She was beginning to feel 
frightened again, when Sir Louis’s voice said sharply 
from within — 

Who is there? ” 


CHAPTEE XVI. 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 

She lifted tlie latch and entered. 

In the small, bare room into which she stepped 
directly, Sir Louis, looking rather pale by contrast 
with the scarlet of his hunting-coat, and with disor- 
dered hair and collar, was sitting on one rush-bottomed 
chair, his left foot resting on a second. On a deal 
table at his elbow stood a bottle and tumbler. He 
stared at the entering figure with incredulous eyes, 
not sure whether the dusk was not deceiving him. 

Miss Farthingall! You here? How on earth 
does this happen? 

Yes, it is I. I will explain directly. But tell 
me first, for goodness’ sake, what has happened. Are 
you badly hurt? ” 

Only so-so,” said Sir Louis; but in the attempt 
1o laugh he made a grimace suggestive of acute pain. 

It’s that beastly turn the weather has taken — 
I beg your pardon — I mean this most uncalled-for 
frost. We had given up the run as a bad job, and I 
was taking a short cut home, when my beast slipped 
right away from under me. It was all I could do to 
drag myself here, but I don’t believe there’s any real 
harm done.” 


163 


A MINISTERINa ANGEL. 


103 


We’ll see that directly/’ said Miss Farthingall, 
divesting herself of the shawl she had worn over her 
jacket, and beginning to pull off her gloves, with a 
business-like air which pleased him far better than 
a display of sentiment could have done at this mo- 
ment. Good gracious! you’ve still got your boot 
on! ” 

I couldn’t get it off,” said Sir Louis, making 
another grimace, and there was no one to help me, 
since I had to send that idiot for the doctor; it was all 
he was fit for. I made him put the brandy bottle near 
me, in case of my feeling queer, and then I just turned 
him out.” 

Well, I am here now, but it’s too late for pull- 
ing off the boot; the swelling is far too advanced by 
this time. It will have to be cut off.” 

She was bending over his foot now, and examin- 
ing it. 

Can’t it wait till the doctor comes? ” asked Sir 
Louis doubtfully, aware of a strange reluctance to 
being waited upon by Miss Farthingall. 

Certainly not. The doctor would never forgive 
me if I did not do it at once. Do you happen to have 
a knife about you? ” 

He did not happen to have one, but presently 
she returned from the adjoining kitchen with an an- 
cient but well sharpened clasp-knife. 

But, Miss Farthingall,” said Sir Louis, some- 
what feebly, as she quietly knelt down on the fioor 
beside him. 

She had apparently not heard, being absorbed 
in gently but surely ripping up the leather of his rid- 
ing-boot. It took several minutes’ work, the leather 


164 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


being stout and the foot already badly swollen; and 
Sir Louis, recognizing the necessity of remaining im- 
movable, could only look on wonderingly, and marvel 
at the deftness and accuracy with which those small 
hands worked. As the heavy boot fell to the floor 
an exclamation of relief escaped him. 

She looked up at him and smiled. 

told you so! You Avill feel quite different 

now.’^ 

Then, as though it. were the most natural thing in 
the world, she gently pulled off the sock, and began 
closely examining the injured foot, passing her flnger- 
tips softly along the swollen surface, and occasionally 
pressing lightly upon some particular spot. 

I don’t think it can be a fracture,” she said at 
last; ^^most likely only a bad sprain, or possibly a 
dislocation. Anyway, it must be bandaged imme- 
diately; a cold compress will keep the swelling down.” 

But surely you are not going to bandage it? ” 
he asked, with a last attempt at resistance. 

Of course I am; why not? I picked up a good 
many nursing dodges in Australia, and a bandage isn’t 
hard to settle. The question is. What shall I make 
it of? ” 

She rose from her knees and began looking about 
the room. A few minutes’ search brought to light 
a couple of clean towels, but they were rough and 
hard, and she shook her head as she fingered their 
surface. Then, pulling out her handkerchief, she 
folded it as required, and laid it to soak in a basin of 
water. 

But I must get you to the bed first,” she said 
decisively. ‘‘ I can do it more easily there.” 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


165 


There stood a low trestle-bed in the corner of the 
room, covered only with a rough blanket. She went 
up and inspected it, and ended by spreading her shawl 
carefully over the blanket. He watched her without 
comment^ beginning to feel helpless in her hands. 

Now/^ she said, returning to him, you must 
manage to stand up somehow. Take a mouthful of 
brandy first — there ! and you can lean with your hand 
on my shoulder. DonT be afraid to press too hard; 
Fm much stronger than I look.’^ 

Two minutes later Sir Louis lay on the Hill Fool’s 
bed, reposing on Miss Farthingall’s shawl, and with 
his foot neatly bandaged with her handkerchief and 
by her hands. 

Just as she turned from the bed he laughed aloud, 
not very joyfully. 

What is the matter? ” 

The situation tickles my fancy, that’s all. By- 
the-by, you haven’t told me yet how you come to be 
here?” 

I first met your horse and then Job Limple. I 
knew that you were alone here and in pain. Is that 
not enough? ” 

I suppose it is; I’m a fellow-creature, after all.” 

He said it with a certain emphasis, which was to 
remind her that to her he meant to be just a fellow- 
creature and nothing else, but she answered nothing. 

What are you doing?” he asked within the 
same minute, for she was taking off her hat and was 
unbuttoning her jacket. I have all I want now, 
and you must be going immediately if you want to 
get home by daylight.” 

She went on unbuttoning her jacket. 


166 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


And did you suppose I was going to leave you 
to yourself in your present state? 

How long do you mean to stay? ’’ lie asked un- 
easily. 

Till the doctor comes, of course.’’ 

But that may be some time yet.” 

That doesn’t matter; I have nothing to hurry 

for.” 

He was silent. The idea of Miss Farthingall 
being found here by the doctor did not suit him at 
all, but there was absolutely nothing for it, seeing 
that she would not leave the spot and that he could 
not. Besides, how could he even protest? What 
she had done as yet was only strictly in accordance 
with the most ordinary Christian charity. 

Having freed herself of her jacket, she proceeded 
to light a fire in the empty grate, and presently the 
gloom of the chilly room was illuminated by a cheery 
red fiame, and enlivened by a brisk crackling of twigs. 

Do you think you could eat anything?” she 
asked, as she rose from her knees. 

I almost think I could, now that you mention it. 
I missed my luncheon to-day. But you’re not going 
to give me twigs to eat, are you? and there doesn’t 
seem to be anything ejse about.” 

Who knows? The Hill Fool can’t live upon 
twigs. I’ll soon find out.” 

What she did find was only a chunk of cheese 
and half a loaf of bread, but it did for the moment. 
She would not let him sit up in bed for fear of disturb- 
ing his foot, and the result was that she had to cut 
the bread and cheese into little bits and feed him with 
it like a child, or a canary-bird, as he suggested, trying 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


167 


to put upon the matter as jocular an air as it would 
allow of. 

There’s some over/’ said Miss Farthingall, when 
he had finished. I suppose I may have some 
too.” 

And she sat down, and, there before his eyes, with 
Job Limple’s coarse knife to cut it with, ate the strong- 
smelling cheese hungrily, and yet as daintily as though 
she were eating strawberries with a silver spoon. 
There never was anything, however distantly, offen- 
sive about Miss Farthingall, even in such prosaic mo- 
ments as this. Things, which in another woman 
might have repulsed, appeared quite harmless in 
her, seeing that she had a certain way of flitting over 
the vulgarities of life without appearing to identify 
herself with them, a trick which seemed to put her 
on a different level from common people. 

There’s bad weather coming,” said Sir Louis 
presently. 

Within the last few minutes the shocks of wind 
had been increasing in strength. The scrap of cur- 
tain before the ill-closed window waved as though 
moved by hands, and even the shawl on the bed seemed 
alive, for the loosely-constructed house — little more 
than a heap of stones — was apt, on windy nights, to 
become a mere trapful of draughts. A loose slate rat- 
tled on the roof, and from the hollow below there 
came strange, moaning sounds, where the gusts were 
caught in the holes of the old quarry, and could not 
find their way out again. 

Is that not snow? ” 

She rose and went to the window. Yes, sure 
enough — the first white flakes were driving over the 


168 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


pane, flying almost horizontally before the ever-in- 
creasing wind. 

Poor old Dr. Bridges!’^ said. Sir Louis. It 
will be a hard piece of work to get him up here if this 
holds on.’^ 

Miss Farthingall said nothing. From where she 
stood she could judge of the situation much better 
than he, and the look of the western sky, so far as she 
could see it in the falling darkness, told her what sort 
of a night was coming. 

Hard work indeed,’^ she reflected, if they can 
get him up at all.’’ 

She felt her heart leap at the thought which had 
come to her, though also it was a little startling. She 
had not counted on anything like this; all she had 
plotted for was a few hours alone with him. 

In another ten minutes it became necessary to 
light one of the two tallow dips she had found in 
the kitchen cupboard. She had put off the mo- 
ment as long as possible, in order not to alarm 
Sir Louis by the admission that night had actually 
come. 

I can’t understand their not being here yet,” he 
said somewhat crossly. 

Very likely the doctor was not at home, or else 
Job Limple may have mistaken your directions. It 
would be like the Hill Fool to make a mess of the 
thing.” 

Anyway, you ought to be going, Miss Farthing- 
all,” he said, rousing himself to one more effort. It 
really seems that a snowstorm is brewing; and how 
do you know that you can get down later? This may 
be your last chance.” 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


169 


I don’t mean to take it, though. You know 
that I can’t leave you alone.” 

You ought to know that you can’t risk being 
found here,” he answered, with rising irritation. 

You used to be far more careful of your reputation 
than this.” 

She turned rather pale as she answered lower. 
My reputation is nothing to me in comparison to 
your safety — or' even your comfort.” 

A flame leapt to her eyes as she said it. It was 
the flrst moment in which her studiously business-like 
manner had given way. 

He turned his head on the pillow in order not to 
have to see her face, and in doing so inadvertently 
twitched his foot and uttered an exclamation of pain. 
She was by his side in a moment, placing back the foot 
in the right position and holding brandy to his lips. 

The window-pane had grown black by this time, 
and the snow could only be heard, no longer seen. 
The moans down there in the hollow had swelled 
to bawls, as piteous as though they came from the 
throats of myriads of wild beasts imprisoned in a pit, 
and occasionally there was a rumble like thunder, 
when some loose stone got dislodged and went rolling 
and leaping down the sides of the quarry. 

Sir Louis lay still with closed eyes, pretending to 
doze. It was the best way of avoiding having to say 
something. He did not know whether to feel more 
provoked or more touched by Miss Farthingall’s flat 
refusal to leave him, but on the whole irritation had 
the upper hand. The situation had its absurd side 
too. What welcome food this would be to the gossip- 
mongers! That thought in itself was enough to in- 


170 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


dine tlie balance on the side of disapproval. It would 
not have mattered so much if he had been seriously 
hurt, but this was evidently only a bad sprain; he 
would be about again in a few days, and the whole 
thing would have the look of a sham. On the other 
hand, again, it was impossible for the mere bodily 
man not to feel grateful for the mere bodily comforts 
he was enjoying. He had only to picture himself 
still sitting on the rush-bottomed chair, as he had been 
at her entrance, in the cold and presently the darkness, 
unable to reach either light or food for himself, and 
perhaps sitting on thus into the small hours of the 
morning, with only the howling wind to listen to — he 
had only to think of it in order to realize how for- 
tunate, in one sense, at least, had been Miss Farthing- 
albs appearance on the scene, how much he owed to 
her deft ministrations. Would she have done this 
for any other fellow-creature? He hardly thought so. 
Though pretending to doze, he now and then opened 
his lids just enough to watch her as she sat with her el- 
bow on the table, shading her eyes from the light of the 
candle. Some remnant of that early tinge of distrust, 
which occasionally overcame him still, made him wish 
to find out what she looked like when she thought her- 
self unobserved. 

But before what he now espied in her face, mis- 
trust perforce faded. In the eyes that looked upon 
him, not knowing that he could see, there was the 
same passion written, of which he had caught a glimpse 
that day in the lane — only more broadly, more un- 
disguisedly written, since they deemed themselves un- 
marked. Even her lips had grown unsteady with the 
emotion against which she vainly struggled. Sir 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


171 


Louis, as he looked, felt the sharpest pang of self-re- 
proach he had ever yet felt. He had no cognizance 
of any acting which could feign anything so convinc- 
ing as this. And in truth Miss Farthingall was not act- 
ing just now, just as she had had no need to act all sum- 
mer — so far as her feelings towards him were con- 
cerned. What she felt for the time being really was 
love — even though only love of a sort — and this most 
fortunate circumstance it was which had made her 
task so easy, for without it there would have unavoid- 
ably come moments when even her consummate art 
would have been at fault. 

The hours began to pass, with only here and there 
a word spoken. The dull flame of the candle, moving 
in the constant draught, played dimly upon the pale 
gold of the schoolmistress’s hair and the scarlet of Sir 
Louis’s coat. In the intervals between the furious 
gusts, the swish of the driving flakes upon the window 
could be plainly heard. From underneath the loose- 
ly-hung door the stiow had drifted in and formed a 
tiny wreath on the floor. At moments it seemed as 
though the storm were bent on carrying the rough 
house over the edge of the cliff and into that howling 
pit below. There was nothing more said about the 
doctor; the idea of expecting him before morning 
seemed absurd. 

Midnight was past when at length Sir Louis man- 
aged to fall into a genuine doze, uneasy because of the 
throbbing of his foot, yet a relief after the long day. 
When he awoke again the wind had somewhat sub- 
sided, but it was still pitch-dark outside, and the sec- 
ond tallow candle had taken the place of the first, 
while the fire too had evidently been kept up, for it 
12 


172 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


still flickered brightly. Opening his eyes, he found 
himself looking straight into those of Miss Farthing- 
all, who was bending over him with parted lips. 
She started back a little, but on some impulse he put 
out his hand and took hold of hers. 

IFs you again! he said, with a short, sleepy 
laugh. You seem to be my fate! 

And then, looking at her face, that was pale with 
watching, it occurred to him that he had not yet 
thanked her with one word. 

You’re very good to me,” he said, looking hard 
into her face and still holding her hand. Better 
than I have deserved of you.” 

He saw the colour rising to her white cheek, and 
then suddenly, to his astonishment and almost con- 
sternation, she stooped and kissed him quickly on the 
lips. Her own were very soft and fresh — so fresh 
that, despite the consternation, he almost wished that 
she would go on, but after that quick movement she 
turned abruptly from the bed. 

And now a great wave of pity came over him, as 
he asked himself what the wretched girl must be feel- 
ing after so open a self-betrayal. All at once the part 
he was playing appeared to himself contemptible be- 
yond words. In some ways it was almost a pity that 
it should be so impossible to marry her. The next 
thought that came was — Why impossible? Do I 
mean to mourn all my life for a woman who does not 
love me? ” And if it was to be any other, why not 
this one? He had often heard that the next best thing 
to being happy one’s self was to make some one else 
happy. Besides, did it not really seem as though the 
Anger of fate were here at work? 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


173 


When he spoke again, after a long pause, it was 
in a queer, abrupt voice, which she had not heard be- 
fore. 

Tell me,^’ he said unexpectedly, would you 
mind marrying some one who was not in love with 
you? 

The question did not sound quite as unconven- 
tional as it would have sounded under more conven- 
tional circumstances. 

She was sitting again beside the table, and she 
started visibly. 

'Not ii 1 loved him,’^ she answered at last, very 

low. 

But you once said that love ought to be equal 
on both sides? 

Did I? Perhaps, — I forget. I donT think I 
meant it exactly like that.^’ 

Her face was turned from him, and he could see 
by the heaving of her breast that her breath was com- 
ing fast. 

How would it be if he could manage to revive his 
feeling for her? he asked himself as he watched her. 
He supposed he must have felt something for her in 
the days when he helped her to gather roses. And 
undoubtedly she was pretty, and as refined a wife as 
ever he could wish for. Her hair was a lovely colour 
— the palest gold he had ever seen; yes, he supposed 
pale gold was the proper technical expression for it. 
And her complexion was perfect, and those tiny hands 
of hers 

As she sat thus turned away he leisurely looked 
her all over — as much of her as he could see — dwell- 
ing on each perfection with the deliberate intention of 


174 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


inflaming liis imagination. It was a pity that he 
could not see her whole face, he thought, for that 
might have made the task easier. What a solution of 
difticulties it would be if he could manage to feel some- 
thing for her! To his mother it would be no loss, 
only an exchange — to his beloved mother who, ever 
since that chance meeting at the gates, had been daily 
looking for a visit of the beautiful, fair-haired Flo. 
For a fortnight she had lived on the mere bliss of the 
vision — but this last fortnight had brought him close 
to the end of his wits. Either this or something else 
would soon have to be done. Was it quite impossible 
for him to warm to the idea? Perhaps the brandy 
might help him. He put his hand out to the glass 
beside him on the chair and swallowed a mouthful. 

Yes, she was a woman worthy of being coveted. 
AVhat a soft curve of shoulder, and how white must 
be the arm hidden away in that sleeve of poor black 
stuff! 

He took another mouthful of brandy, and con- 
tinued his reflections with a dogged steadiness of pur- 
pose quite his own. Yes, and she would look better, 
too, if she were properly dressed; he need not be 
ashamed of her anywhere. And what a plucky little 
body it was, too! The situation could scarcely be 
more painful to her than it was. At this very mo- 
ment she was probably waiting with bated breath for 
the sound of his next words, and yet what self-control 
spoke from her whole attitude ! And the humility of 
her passion, was it not enough to soften a man’s heart ? 
AVhen she looked at him with those blue eyes of hers, 
did she not seem to be begging pardon for loving him 
too much? He began to wish that she would tarn 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


175 


now and look at him in that way; very likely it would 
work better than the brandy. She was shivering, too, 
as he now noticed, and at the same moment he remem- 
bered that he was lying on her shawl. 

His temples were beginning to throb — was that 
the brandy, after all? It was certain that she loved 
him, and she was prettier than he had imagined. N^ow 
that curve of white throat 

Suddenly he groaned, and turned his face to the 
wall. It would not do, after all; another face had 
come between him and the one on which he was at- 
tempting to fix his attention; a pairj^f well-known 
grey eyes had surprised him by their clearness, looking 
up shyly from under black lashes. 

And, again, the hours began to pass, but he did 
not sleep any more, but lay there, trying to bring him- 
self to some resolution, and ever again recoiling from 
the thought of what it implied, from time to time put- 
ting out his hand towards the brandy glass, and seek- 
ing therein to stimulate his mental energy. 

He had not yet succeeded, when at length the 
square of window began to grow pale; the long win- 
ter’s night was drawing to a close. In another half- 
hour the guttering end of candle had become super- 
fluous. By the ghastly light of the November morn- 
ing, Miss FarthingalFs face revealed itself as haggard 
and heavy-eyed. She had scarcely spoken since the 
moment when she had kissed him. It had been done 
on impulse, and yet not wholly on impulse, since even 
in doing it she had been conscious of the thought, If 
this does not bring him to the point then nothing 
will! ” It was the last card which she felt it in her 
power to play. And now there began to press upon 


176 


MISS PRO\^IDEXCE. 


her the humiliating conviction that it had been played 
in vain. The night was over, and so was the storm; 
they would not long be alone, and still he had said 
nothing which could bind him. As she moved about 
listlessly between the fireplace and the table, the 
spirit seemed to have gone out of her. Bodily fatigue 
and mental disappointment were equally at work; 
discouragement had hold of her at last. 

They are coming! she said presently, standing 
still by the window. 

It was almost broad daylight now, and from down 
the valley the sound of steps and voices could be heard 
ringing back sharply from the hard-frozen ground. 

In ten minutes more the Hill Fooks small apart- 
ment had become almost too small for the breathlessly 
bursting-in party. They had done what they could, 
but the attempt made in the night had been a failure, 
and even by daylight the snowdrifts had proved no 
mean obstacle. It was a larger party than had been 
expected, the report of Sir Louis’s mishap having 
spread since the previous night, and induced Dr. 
Bridges to volunteer his services besides those of Dr. 
Ward, while the vicar’s chronic anxiety as to the 
health of humanity in general, having taken an acute 
form in consequence of the news, had driven him to 
join the rescuing party. But this was not all, for, 
behind the vicar’s broad figure. Sir Louis caught sight 
of an extremely spare one, belonging actually to the 
Tiger-Lily in person, whose devouring curiosity as to 
what might be going on here — for she liad managed 
to extract from the Hill Fool the fact of his meeting 
with Miss Farthingall — had pushed her to brave the 
snow-drifts in order to accompany her brother to the 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


177 


spot. The mixed sensations of gratitude and fury 
which had possessed her since the day of the refusal — 
gratitude for letting him run, and fury for daring to 
decline so undoubted an honour — kept her interest in 
each one of the schoolmistress’s actions at boiling-point. 
Sir Louis saw her eyes light up as they fell on Miss 
Farthingall, but she waited to speak until the first 
burst of exclamations was over. 

What a comfort to see that you are safe ! ” she 
then observed, turning to the schoolmistress with a 
dangerous suavity of accent. They are in a regular 
state about you down at the school-house. None of 
them could imagine where you had slept.” 

I did not sleep at all,” answered Miss Farthing- 
all, indifferently. 

You don’t look as if you had. But you must 
have spent the night somewhere. I trust you were 
not without shelter? ” 

No, I was not. I was here.” 

Here in this hut? ” 

Yes.” 

With Sir Louis? All night? ” Miss Ward ac- 
tually stammered in her consternation at the boldness 
of the admission. Flow very unfortunate! ” 

Yes, with Sir Louis, all night,” repeated the 
schoolmistress, with returning spirit, as she looked 
her adversary in the eyes. What of that? And 
why is it unfortunate? ” 

There was an uncomfortable pause. The vicar 
looked from one face to the other, and wished he 
could think of something to say which would hurt 
no one’s feelings. Dr. Bridges rubbed his glasses 
carefully, and Dr. Ward grew so much redder than 


178 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


he was by nature, that at this moment he bore as much 
resemblance to a peony as his sister did to a tiger-lily. 

Oh, nothing of that. It is only so far unfor- 
tunate as a young person is so easily exposed to re- 
mark.’^ 

Did you suppose I would leave him in his in- 
jured state? 

No,^’ said Miss Ward, with cruel slowness; I 
never would have supposed that. It would not have 
been like you to miss so good an opportunity for mak- 
ing yourself agreeable to ’’ 

Sir Louis suddenly raised himself on the bed. 
The resolution, which neither the brandy-bottle nor 
the artificial raptures over Miss FarthingalFs charms 
had been able to give him, he had found in the Tiger- 
Lily’s merciless accents, in the malevolent glance of 
her sunken, old-maidish eyes. 

Miss Ward,” he began, in a tone which shook 
with irritation, pardon me if I interrupt you ; but 
you seem about to say something disrespectful of this 
— lady. Before you go on, I should like to tell you 
that you are speaking of my future wife.” 

There was a moment’s dead silence. Miss Ward’s 
withered right hand remained poised in mid-air; the 
one .doctor ceased polishing his spectacles, while the 
other, from having been a red peony, became abruptly 
transformed into a white one; and yet he was not so 
white as Miss Farthingall herself. I7early half a 
minute passed before Miss Ward’s fixed hand relaxed 
and dropped to her side. 

I don’t think I quite understand,” she said, 
hoarsely and incredulously. 

Do you not?” asked Sir Louis, quite calm by 


A MINISTERING ANGEL. 


179 


this time. I can be more explicit if you like. What 
I said was that I mean to marry that lady there ’’ — 
and he indicated Miss Farthingall — as soon as ever 
you brother has mended my foot for me. Is that 
clear enough now? 

And, to judge from the faces around, it certainly 
was quite clear. 


CHAPTEK XVIL 


HOME AGAIN. 

Mr. Crossley sat in his beloved study, profoundly 
thankful to be looking out at the familiar beech trees 
of the Heywood park, instead of at the acacias and 
orange-groves of Nice. The continental tour under- 
taken last summer for the purpose of letting a little 
grass grow over the matter of the broken engagement, 
had expanded to unlooked-for dimensions, since, owing 
to a bad cold caught in autumn, the doctors had con- 
sidered it advisable for Florence to winter abroad. 
To so home-loving a person as Mr. Crossley, it had 
been a distinct sacrifice to face an hotel winter, but 
from the moment that he thought to detect in Flor- 
ence a hereditary trace of her mother’s delicacy of 
constitution he forgot everything in the panic which 
came over him. 

The broken engagement itself had, of course, been 
a shock in its way, though the idea of thwarting his 
daughter’s wishes occurred to him as little now as it 
had done in the nursery and schoolroom days. This 
was a rather more serious caprice, certainly, than had 
been the desire for expensive playthings, or the objec- 
tion to taking medicine, and the gentle amusement he 
had been apt to feel on these occasions was this time re- 
180 


HOME AGAIN. 


181 


placed by a sense of unmistakable disappointment. It 
might have been as well, perhaps, if she had been 
taught to listen to reason earlier, but it was too late to 
begin that now, and a mere attempt would entail 
scenes of a sort which his sensitive organization had 
never been able to endure. Therefore Mr. Crossley 
ended by confining himself to sighing and regretfully 
reflecting that if her mother had been living it would 
probably never have come to this. It was but another 
reason for mourning for that for which he had never 
ceased to weep. 

The news of the most extraordinary marriage by 
which Sir Louis Hepburne had, early in the winter, 
electrified the county, had in some degree helped to 
lessen Mr. Crossley’s regrets. That he should marry 
a schoolmistress was bad enough, but that he should 
do so not eight months after he had proposed for Flor- 
ence’s hand seemed to show that his affections stood on 
no very sure foundation. Very likely this seeming 
misfortune was in reality a piece of luck in disguise, 
and his beloved child had escaped a worthless hus- 
band. 

There was a gentle smile on Mr. Crossley’s hand- 
some features as he gazed at the new green of the old 
beech trees. Life was becoming once more endurable, 
if not enjoyable. Florence was strong again, though 
rather thinner than she used to be, and that dreadful 
hotel episode was over. What he had suffered in its 
course no one but Mr. Crossley himself knew; for, 
although this suave old gentleman was far too intrin- 
sically amiable to abuse a waiter, or even to scowl at 
him, he yet belonged to the order of those whose hap- 
piness is complete only when their boots are blacked to 


182 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


exactly the right degree, and replaced on exactly the 
right spot, and to whom an over or an under-done egg 
is capable of throwing its shadow over an entire fore- 
noon. As he now looked round at the familiar ob- 
jects so long missed, he became more than ever con- 
vinced that there is no place like home. Books and 
portraits — it was about all that the room contained — 
portraits of the dead woman he had loved, and books 
which were to help him to forget her, but had not 
very well succeeded. It was generally accepted in the 
county that Mr. Crossley was learned,’’ but in reality 
he had never become more than a desultory student, 
who, by dint of taking up various courses of reading 
in turn, and carrying them on just so far as they 
amused him, had arrived at knowing a little about 
everything and not very much about anything. It 
was a sort of mental pottering about between the most 
miscellaneous sciences; chemistry, mathematics, his- 
torical research, they each had had their turn, and 
each been dropped again when they had served their 
purpose of deadening memory for a while. 

To-day, however, there was no book before him, 
only a note which had come by the early post and 
which would have to be answered. He was still won- 
dering what the answer should be when a touch on 
his shoulder aroused him to the presence of his daugh- 
ter. 

She had certainly lost something in flesh since last 
year, but nothing in looks. Perhaps it was the slight 
falling away in her flgure which made it appear as 
though she had grown, while the somewhat less round- 
ed cheek gave to her beauty the touch of delicacy 
which it had wanted before. 


HOME AGAIN. 


183 


I wish to ask you about that new family in 
the village/^ she began. 

At it again, Miss Providence?’’ the old gentle- 
man smiled in return. But wait a minute, for I, 
too, have something to ask. AVhat answer am I to 
give to this? ” And he held the note towards 
her. 

Accept it, of course,” was the verdict she gave, 
having read the few lines. 

Mr. Crossley fingered a pen doubtfully. 

But have you refiected that Manseley is only 
two miles from Stonefield? ” 

What of that? ” she asked flushing. 

The chances are that the Hepburnes will be 
there, such near neighbours as that, and Mrs. Linton 
is exactly the woman to invite the wrong people, be- 
sides, it’s their farewell dinner before going to town. 
I thought you mightn’t enjoy a meeting.” 

I don’t say that I shall enjoy it, but I certainly 
don’t mean to shirk it. We can’t go on hiding from 
each other for ever, and since a beginning will have 
to be made, this opportunity will do as well as any 
other.” 

I don’t see why the beginning need be made 
just yet; the longer the pause the less awkwardness 
there would be about the meeting.” 

But Florence shook her head decisively. That 
is not my idea at all. When an unpleasant thing is 
in prospect, it’s always better to get it over at once. 
Besides, why should I mind meeting Sir Louis? ” she 
added, with an inflection of defiance in her voice. 

I have nothing to reproach myself with on his ac- 
count.” 


IStt 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Mr. Crossley stroked his silver beard in silence. 
Seeing that he had never clearly understood the reason 
of the rupture, it was of course impossible for him to 
answer this question. 

Then what am I to say? ’’ he asked instead. 

You are to say, of course, that we shall be happy 
to come on Tuesday.’^ 

Mr. Crossley sighed, and dipped his pen in ink. 
Merely to dine out was in itself a sacrifice, though 
one to which, since Florence’s coming out, he had 
gradually had to resign himself, and the meeting in 
prospect for Tuesday was distinctly distasteful, but, 
as usual, he bowed to his daughter’s will. 

As for Florence, she left the room with height- 
ened colour and a fast-beating heart. Despite the 
proud indifference assumed, the impending event had 
set all her nerves tingling. If she had not already 
known that she loved him still, the fiutter of her senses 
would have told her so to-day. After all that was 
past, there was no disguising from herself the fact 
that she felt for him now exactly what she had felt 
at the moment when she stood beside her betrothed on 
the terrace in the May twilight just a year ago, and 
complained of her too great burden of happiness. 
There was no more excess of happiness to complain of 
now; the burden had been lifted, or rather she had 
forcibly rid herself of it, but, strangely enough, the 
peace she had thought to purchase by the sacrifice had 
not yet come. It was not that she reproached herself 
with what she still considered to have been the right 
and just thing to do, but simply that the love which 
she had thought herself strong enough to kill, merely 
by resolving to do so, would not die at her command. 


HOME AGAIN. 


185 


would not bow to her will, as she was accustomed to 
see the people around her doing. 

The news of the accomplished marriage had been 
at once a triumph and a blow. In the third place, 
it was a complete surprise; for although it was what 
she had wanted him to do, it was what he had at their 
parting declared he would never do. After all, he 
must not be quite so bad a man as she had taken him 
for; it was a comfort to be able to respect him, though 
of course from this moment onwards he must become 
a mere acquaintance. To see him by the side of his 
wife, actually and visibly a married man, might pos- 
sibly help to make her realize the barrier between 
them, and this reflection, too, it was which nerved her 
for the meeting. Besides, it was necessary that she 
should assure herself with her own eyes of the success 
of her experiment. Altogether there were reasons 
enough to wish for Tuesday, quite without counting 
the devouring longing for the sight of the man she 
had sworn to herself to forget. 

It was while dressing for the evening that the con- 
sciousness of this longing came over her in a moment, 
and caused her to stop in the very act of fastening a 
diamond star in her hair. She had remembered that 
Louis had liked her to wear that star, and she thought 
she detected in herself the desire to look well in his 
eyes. This was of course not allowable, and delib- 
erately unfastening the star, she chose a quieter orna- 
ment, and even at the last moment changed her mind 
about her dress, and, just in order to punish herself 
for that wicked desire, put on a sober grey silk, instead 
of the rich, creamy satin which had been lying ready 
on the bed. 


186 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


After all, the actual moment of meeting was a 
little less trying than she had pictured it, owing to 
the fact that, being the last arrivals, she and her father 
found the room full, and that a round of hasty greet- 
ings was followed by an immediate adjournment to the 
dining-room. What between the bustle and the 
sense of flurry which overcame her, Florence scarcely 
knew whether among the salutations responded to she 
had also heard one from Sir l^ouis, or whether one of 
the hands she had hastily shaken possibly belonged to 
his wife. It was only when she found herself seated 
at table between a harmless young country squire and 
a diminutive curate, that it became possible to take 
stock of the situation. 

Yes, to be sure, her father had been right; Mrs. 
Linton had assembled all her neighbours to-day. 
There he was — fortunately at the same side of the 
table as herself, so that there was no danger of their 
looks crossing. She was horrifled to feel how her 
heart leapt at the sight of the dark head towering over 
that of every man at the table, and how it sank again 
as her eyes fell on a pink-clad flgure straight opposite. 
There she was — but oh, what a metamorphosis from 
the modest, plainly attired little schoolmistress of other 
days! This smiling, radiant being, exquisitely ap- 
pointed in floating pink draperies, and wearing 
diamond bracelets with the nonchalance of a dowager, 
seemed to be the butterfly which had emerged from 
that soberly-tinted chrysalis. Florence felt it hard 
to take her eyes off her. Could six months, and so- 
and-so many yards of pink crepe, make such a differ- 
ence as this? 'No, it was not the six months, it was 
the crepe alone which had done it, was the conclusion 


HOME AGAIN. 


187 


she presently came to. It was not practice which this 
woman had wanted, only opportunity. This was the 
sort of thing to which she was born; and probably she 
had put on her clothes with exactly this air, and taken 
her place at table with exactly this aplomb on the 
morrow of her marriage. Thus Florence told herself 
as she somewhat blankly responded to the friendly nod 
and smile with which Lady Hepburne was greeting 
her across the table. There could be no doubt, at any 
rate, that she was happy. It was not only that the 
smiles came so readily, disclosing the pearly teeth in 
quick, brilliant flashes, but that even in repose the 
swelling lips seemed scarcely able to contain the exul- 
tation working within. The very movements of her 
flgure, and each caressing touch of her Angers upon 
her rings, spoke of a state of satisfaction rarely seen 
so entirely without flaw. No one looking at her could 
doubt that here was a person who had got exactly what 
she wanted, and was drinking of life in the fullest 
draughts to be swallowed. To see her so happy surely 
argued well for Sir Louis’s own happiness, thought 
Florence. Ought she not to be content? She told 
herself severely that she ought, only to detect herself 
watching Lady Hepburne with an interest which, to 
say the least, was foolish, instead of talking to her 
long-suffering neighbours. What she was trying to 
detect was some symptom of that devotion whose be- 
trayal, by touching her so deeply at the time of their 
first acquaintance, had indirectly led to the rupture, 
and which, after barely six months of married life, 
ought surely still to be in its flrst freshness. Yet, 
watch as she would, she could not discover Lady Hep- 
burne’s eyes ever wandering in the direction in which 
13 


188 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


she knew that Sir Louis was seated. So far as she 
could make out, there was not so much as a glance 
exchanged during the whole course of dinner. Lady 
Hepburne was far too pleasantly occupied with her 
neighbours and with her dinner to have time for any- 
thing approaching to sentimentality; and, despite the 
lively conversation she kept up, she ate a very good 
dinner indeed. looting the appreciative glances 
thrown upon every new dish presented, and the man- 
ner in which the rosy tongue-tip collected each pre- 
cious drop after every fresh mouthful of champagne — 
it could not be called anything so vulgar as licking 
one’s lips, but it was nevertheless suggestive in the 
extreme — Florence found her thoughts carried back 
to the day of their first acquaintance, and to the look 
on the schoolmistress’s face at the moment when the 
tea-tray was brought in. That time the eagerness in 
the blue eyes had touched her with keen pity; this 
time this same eagerness struck her in quite a different 
way, perhaps because she was inclined to be more 
critical, or perhaps because it was clearly impossible 
to feel the same pity for the brilliant Lady Hepburne 
as for the half-starved Miss Farthingall. 

It was when she found herself in the drawing- 
room again that Florence discovered within herself 
a new feeling of repugnance or terror — she scarcely 
knew which. The dozen or so ladies of the party 
were beginning to fall into groups. I hope to 
goodness she is not going to gush to me about her 
happiness,” said Florence to herself, apprehensively. 

She is coming in my direction.” 

But Lady Hepburne was evidently not thinking of 
anything of the sort. She smiled at Florence indeed 


HOME AGAIN. 


189 


as she passed, and even gave her hand a furtive little 
pressure, as though to mark the existence of some 
mutual understanding; but, to judge from her wan- 
dering eyes, her thoughts were evidently elsewhere. 

Ah, Mrs. Linton! ’’ she exclaimed in the same 
instant, on catching sight of their hostess close by. 

I’ve been trying to capture you all the evening. It’s 
about that bonnet, you know. You said you would 
be so good as to see about it for me in town.” 

I’ll see about a dozen bonnets, if you like,” 
grinned Mrs. Linton, a dressy little woman with a 
sharp nose and lively black eyes. There could 
scarcely be a more grateful task, seeing that almost 
anything ought to look well on that delightful hair of 
yours; but wouldn’t you prefer to see about it your- 
self? Surely Sir Louis is not going to be so cruel 
as to keep you down here to the very end of the season 
— and a rattling good season it is, too, from all I hear.” 

He says he is too busy with his improvements. 
The windows are to be widened, or the moat filled up, 
or something, so he can’t get away.” 

As she spoke, the first cloud which had dimmed 
Lady Hepburne’s radiancy that evening passed over 
her face while Florence’s listening ears seemed to catch 
the sound of a fleeting sigh. She stood near enough 
to have taken part in the conversation, had she wanted, 
but in her astonishment she could do nothing but look 
and listen. She had been prepared for a good deal 
from Miss Farthingall, but scarcely to see her take 
her place so effectively in society, and apparently so 
entirely without a struggle. AYhy, here was the 
Honourable Mrs. Linton known to be the most diffi- 
cult ” person in the county, so far as pedigrees were 


190 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


concerned, talking to the former schoolmistress as 
though they had been intimates all their lives ! And it 
was not merely because she happened to be the wife 
of Sir Louis Hepburne that people accepted her, as 
Florence could not help recognizing, but principally 
because she was herself, and would have forced almost 
any society to accept her on the strength of her indi- 
viduality, just as she had forced the recreant school- 
boy to respect her, in spite of her size. 

I’d run away if I were you,” Mrs. Linton was 
saying confidentially. 

It’s rather early, after six. months, isn’t it?” 
laughed back the younger woman. But I won’t 
answer for myself next year.” 

Florence fell into a new phase of wonder. How 
was it possible to be Louis’s wife, and yet to entertain 
any such petty hankerings as these words implied? 
What could a London season be to any woman who 
possessed such a treasure as his love? And how could 
place or surroundings count if she loved him? And 
Cordelia had seemed to love him only last year. Flor- 
ence could not doubt it as she recalled the fire that had 
leapt to the blue eyes in reply to that fierce question 
of her own, put on the day of the rupture. Once only 
in the course of the evening that followed did Florence 
again catch sight of that same look on the young wife’s 
face. As the men came trooping in from the dining- 
room, it happened that Sir Louis had for companion 
the same diminutive curate who had taken Florence 
in to dinner, and, entering the room, was forced to 
bend his head in order to catch his companion’s re- 
marks. The contrast between the two figures was one 
which, as the French say, leapt at the eyes.” 


HOME AGAIN. 


191 


What a height! ’’ admiringly remarked the lady 
next to Lady Hepburne. You ought to feel proud 
of having subjugated such a giant.’’ 

Yes, he is splendidly big, is he not?” replied 
the wife. 

It was at this moment that across the room Flor- 
ence caught sight of Lady Hepburne’s eyes lighting 
up as they fixed themselves on her husband, and her 
heart throbbed with a mixture of jealousy and satis- 
faction. It was a satisfaction that she should love 
him; but, oh, it was hard not to grudge her the right 
of doing so. Had her own attention not been claimed 
at that moment, she might have noted how, from her 
husband. Lady Hepburne’s blue eyes passed on to the 
man behind him, who happened to be the one great 
dandy of the neighbourhood, and the possessor of a 
set of almost painfully regular features, and how — 
whether or not in answer to an invitation in those 
blue eyes it was hard to say — Lord Arlington had 
within the next minute taken possession of the vacant 
chair beside her. 

The evening was a long and weary one for Flor- 
ence. Of Sir Louis she only caught occasional 
glimpses in the further drawing-room, while, under 
the stress of conversation, it became impossible to pur- 
sue her observation of his wife. 

It was not until cloaking for departure that the 
chief moment of the evening arrived. Several car- 
riages had been announced at once, and in the lobby 
there was a tolerable bustle in progress. Florence, 
standing a little apart, felt her cloak laid upon her 
shoulders, while a voice she knew well said close to 
her, I hope you are satisfied now.” 


192 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


She turned with a shiver of surprise, having im- 
agined that it was a servant who had handed her her 
cloak. Sir Louis was standing beside her, and under 
his moustache she could see the remains of the hard 
smile with which he had evidently spoken the words. 
This, then, was the crucial moment; there was noth- 
ing for it, she felt, but to put a brave face upon it. 

Yes, I am satisfied,’’ she replied, looking him 
full in the face, despite the rush of colour to her own. 

I knew you would do your duty.” 

He smiled again — that same joyless smile. 

Did you? Ah, well, that is something; but 
you won’t forget, will you, that it was you who made 
me do it? ” 

Before she could find a reply privacy was at an 
end, and in five minutes more she was rolling home- 
wards by her father’s side, her head full of perturbing 
thoughts, born of a host of tiny observations made 
during the evening. What had he meant by his last 
words? Why did he smile so strangely and so joy- 
lessly? Was that the look of a man who had been 
married for barely six months to the first love of his 
life? And the matter had arranged itself so beauti- 
fully — so perfectly in accordance with justice and 
charity; surely it was not possible that this so care- 
fully managed affair was going to turn out anything 
but a success. 


CHAPTEE XVIIL 


THE TOWER ROOM. 

On a warm day towards the middle of June, old 
Lady Hepburne was sitting as usual in her deep arm- 
chair beside the wide fireplace of Stonefield drawing- 
room, and as usual she was alternately crumpling up 
her cambric handkerchief into a ball and smoothing it 
out carefully with her long, brittle-looking fingers. 
But even in the midst of this- occupation her eyes re- 
turned ever and again to the spot where her daughter- 
in-law, in a ravishing gown of creamy lace, was turning 
over the pages of a fashion-paper, and ever and again 
a smile of gentle satisfaction moved her pale, unsteady 
lips. 

Flo, my dear, would you mind letting down the 
blind a little further? she presently said in her 
quavering tones. 

Certainly, mamma ! ” and the younger woman 
rose with alacrity and did as she was required. 

At first it had been a little difficult to remember 
who was meant by Flo but by this time she had 
got quite used to answering to the name of Sir Louis’s 
first bride, whom, in the eyes of her mother-in-law, 
she impersonated. There had been no need for old 
Lady Hepburne to discover that any exchange of 
193 


194 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


persons had taken place, since her weakened intellect 
had unhesitatingly accepted Cordelia Farthingall as 
the original betrothed. It was Sir Louis himself who 
had begged his fiancee to fall in with this fancy of his 
mother’s, in order to spare her unnecessary emotions, 
and Corrie had understood, and laughingly accepted 
the position. 

Why, it’s the very name for me ! ” she had 
declared. ^ Flo ’ makes you think of something 
small and light, doesn’t it? — something like a pinch 
of dandelion fluff, and that is just what I am — suits 
me ever so much better than that pompous Cordelia, 
and doesn’t suit her at all. It’s a pity we can’t ex- 
change names out and out.” 

Just at first it had provoked her to see the start 
he used to give when the name fell from his mother’s 
lips, or to note how he stammered and frowned when 
forced to address her so himself in the old lady’s pres- 
ence, in order to keep up the comedy; but that had 
been in the early days of their marriage, when passion 
still burnt high, and although it was but six months 
since, Louis’s emotions had already lost most of their 
interest in her eyes. 

On her way back from the window the sham Flo 
stopped beside the easy-chair and gave a little smooth- 
ing touch to the pillows, followed by a light kiss on 
the withered cheek. The two Lady Hepburnes got 
on splendidly together, for Corrie, in whose constitu- 
tion there was no real unkindness, had been fltted out 
by nature with the small deft hands, the light touch, 
and the almost inaudible step of the ideal sick-niirse, 
and was always cheerfully ready to put these gifts at 
the disposal of her stricken mother-in-law, who, in her 


THE TOWER ROOM. 


195 


turn, delighted in refreshing her old eyes by the sight 
of anything so young and gay, and so evidently brim- 
ful of life — the creature, moreover, who was Louis’s 
wife, and who by-and-by would become the mother 
of other bearers of the name of Ilepburne. 

Corrie was still standing beside the big chair, when 
a servant entered to announce that a visitor had been ^ 
shown into the Tower Eoom. Young Lady Hep- 
burne followed the summons with alacrity, for, despite 
a real feeling of pity, these long tete-d-tUes with her 
mother-in-law were apt to pall. 

The Tower Room played the part of boudoir to the 
mistress of Stonefield, and, for the sake of leaving the 
Dowager Lady Hepburne in undisturbed possession 
of her favourite big drawing-room, partly also of re- 
ception-room. It was a perfectly circular apartment, 
as round as the tower, whose walls were its walls, situ- 
ated at a height most inconvenient to nineteenth- 
century ideas, but which was probably the only safe 
one to inhabit in, say, the thirteenth. The room was 
lighted by four narrow slits of windows, as pic- 
turesque as they were unconducive to the admission 
of light. 

In the midst of this room, Florence Crossley was 
now standing, looking about her with reluctant yet 
curious eyes. She had been here once before, at the 
time of her engagement, when Louis had taken her 
over the castle and explained to her the improvements 
he meditated. But it was scarcely possible to iden- 
tify the Tower Room as she had seen it then with the 
Tower Room which she saw now. Then, bare walls, 
rough with uncovered masonry, a naked floor, a few 
old pieces of clumsy oaken furniture; and now, all 


196 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


satin and point lace, softly cushioned seats, and sump- 
tuous carpets; every inch of wall draped with costly 
hangings, every table crowded with expensive noth- 
ings. Used though she was to comfort in every form, 
Florence looked about her almost awestruck, for the 
spot had been transformed into a very bower of 
luxury. 

He fulfils all her wishes, that is clear,’’ she 
said within herself. Hor does he attempt to cor- 
rect her faults,” she added, as her eye fell on a stray 
glove lying on one of the satin chairs. She looked 
further, and saw a music-book on the fioor, a scarf 
on the piano, and a handful of loose papers among the 
fiower-pots. Yes, that was her all over; Florence 
had seen just the corresponding symptoms in the little 
room in the school-house down there. Evidently 
Lady Hepburne had not acquired that sense of order 
which Miss Farthingall had so sorely lacked. 

She was still standing on the same spot when her 
hostess entered. 

Oh, it is you! ” exclaimed Lady Hepburne, 
with just a shade of disappointment in her voice; and 
then she evidently recollected herself, and came for- 
ward with outstretched hands. 

Won’t you sit here? I think this chair is more 
comfortable. So sorry not to find you in last week! ” 

Florence sat down still unable to speak. She had 
seen Lady Hepburne once or twice since the dinner 
at Manseley, but this was the first time that they had 
been alone. All the remarks exchanged as yet had 
been exchanged in public, and had belonged to the 
conventional order. AYould they remain so when 
made en tete-d-tete? The dread of its not being so 


THE TOWER ROOM. 


197 


was what had caused Florence to postpone this un- 
avoidable visit as long as social exigencies would allow 
of it. 

At first it seemed as though her fears were un- 
founded. Lady Hepburne had scarcely sat down 
when she sprang up again and clapped her hands. 

Stop a minute; I forgot! We mustn’t sit down 
until I have shown you all my pretty things. They 
are very pretty, I assure you, and a whole lot of them. 
Look at this bowl. now — isn’t it just too sweet? I 
made Louis give it to me for Christmas. And have 
you ever seen anything that beats this mirror-frame? 
Real ivory, mind you! No more shams for me now. 
And what do you say to this silver ash-tray? Did I 
tell you, by-the-by, that I’ve taken to cigarettes? 
Louis wanted to object, but I soon made him listen to 
reason. And don’t you think this shade of blue satin 
suits my complexion exactly? ” 

She was moving about the room now, touching 
one object after another with caressing fingers, and 
chattering as gleefully as a child, and as utterly ob- 
livious as any child could be of any possible cause of 
embarrassment between her and her visitor. Flor- 
ence admired mechanically, as she was told to do, but 
in reality there was something about the look of the 
room which touched her disagreeably. It was not 
that each thing in itself was not excellent of its kind, 
but simply that there were too many of them in pro- 
portion to the square yards of space available. De- 
spite her perfect taste in detail, Corrie had not been 
able to resist the temptation of crowding together as 
many beautiful objects as the room could be made to 
hold. Her excuse was that she had waited so long 


198 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


for this moment. If ever since her childhood she had 
passionately coveted riches, it was not so much because 
she was afraid of poverty — which no one was calcu- 
lated to combat more successfully than she — but be- 
cause she loved luxury, and revelled in it with all her 
being. 

Presently she turned and found Florence’s eyes 
fixed upon her, and something in their expression 
seemed to make her realize the situation. In a mo- 
ment she had found her cue. 

Do you know why I show you all this? ” she 
asked, dropping her voice to a softer tone. It is 
because you have a right to see it, since it is to you 
that I owe my happiness.” 

Her arms went round Florence’s neck, while a 
quick little kiss brushed the other’s cheek. Later on, 
Florence took herself to task for not having returned 
that friendly salute, but at the moment she could do 
nothing but stand there rigid, suffering the embrace 
without response, and feeling ungracious and uncom- 
fortable, and somehow not at all touched by this show 
of affection. 

Tell me truly,” Corrie was whispering confiden- 
tially; have you got another yet? ” 

I don’t understand you,” said Florence, coldly. 

Oh yes, you do! You must have seen crowds of 
nice men sin^e last year. I have been daily expecting 
to hear of your engagement. Come, out with it! ” she 
urged, charmingly audacious. You’ve got another, 
haven’t you? ” 

Ho, I have not got another.” 

Ah well, we’ll hear about it presently, no 
doubt.” 


THE TOWER ROOM. 


199 


A few minutes more and they were seated at the 
tea-table, between them a dish of hot muffins, which 
Lady Hepburne was attacking with that wonderful 
appetite of hers, which seemed so strangely out of 
keeping with her ethereal appearance. And yet the 
appearance was not quite so ethereal as it was wont to 
be, so Florence told herself. Seen at close quarters 
and by broad daylight, there was no denying that 
Lady Ilepburne^s face and figure had undergone a 
change, slight but insignificant. In six months al- 
ready, ease and high living had begun to coarsen the 
flower-like complexion and develop the sensual lines 
about the small, but well-accentuated mouth. She 
knew that it was so, yet could not resist the delights 
of indulgence; it was one more of those occasions 
on which reason and desire came into conflict. 

This is better than the school-house, isn’t it?” 
asked Corrie, with her mouth full of hot muffin. She 
had dropped all show of emotion at sight of the tea- 
tray. I like this room better than any in the castle, 
because it gives you such a jolly good view of the vil- 
lage, and especially of the school-house. I just love 
to stand there at the window and to look down upon 
the wretched place sprawling at my feet, and think 
that if ever I darken its doors again it can only be as 
patroness of a school-feast, and with a lace bonnet on 
my head. Oh, it’s grand to be rich! Don’t you 
think so?” 

It certainly has its advantages,” said Florence, 
lamely. 

She was waiting and watching for some word or 
sign to tell her that Lady Hepburne still loved her 
husband. It is true that she spoke a great deal of her 


200 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


happiness, but with her this seemed to be synonymous 
with riches. She burnt to know, yet had no right to 
put the question now, even though it was she who 
had given this man to this woman. 

They were still sitting en tete-a-tete when a step 
was heard on the winding stairs which connected the 
Tower Koom with the rest of the house. Florence 
rose with a sudden sense of flurry. 

It’s only Louis,” said Lady Hepburne, serenely. 

You don’t mean to say that you mind meeting him?” 

Of course not,” said Florence, remembering her 
role, and sitting down again abruptly. 

Within the same instant Sir Louis was standing 
in the doorway. A slight movement which passed 
over his face was the only sign of emotion he gave 
at the sight of the visitor. 

Excuse me if I am in the way,” he remarked, 
having bowed punctiliously to Florence. I came 
to inquire about the new pony-carriage. Was it green 
or blue cloth which you said you preferred? The 
man has just written to inquire.” 

Blue, of course! Don’t you know that green 
would kill my complexion? And don’t you know, 
too, that well-behaved husbands never forget any pre- 
ference once expressed by their wives? ” 

That’s true,” said Sir Louis, with more gravity 
than the occasion seemed to demand. I suppose 
I am a wretch. It shall be any shade of blue you 
like. And what are your ideas about the harness? 
What do you say to silver mountings? ” 

Corrie clapped her hands. Splendid! 'No, he’s 
not a wretch, after all, is he, Florence? ” 

Florence smiled unsteadily, unable to speak. 


THE TOWER ROOM. 


201 


I have just had my duty explained to me, and 
am trying to come up to it. I am sure Miss Crossley 
agrees that it is the only choice open to me,’’ and Sir 
Louis turned an expressionless face on the visitor. 

Of course,” said Florence, hurriedly, and at 
that moment she caught sight of Lady Hepburne’s 
eyes fixed on her with a look of good-natured amuse- 
ment, and unde^fstood that she had overtaxed her 
strength. With a feeling as of suffocation, she rose 
once more to her feet and explained that she must be 
going. 

So thaVs why you haven’t got another yet,” 
was whispered into her ear at the moment of parting. 

Poor girl. Pm so sorry for you! Never for a mo- 
ment imagined you would keep him in your head such 
a time.” 

Under the circumstances a reply was impossible. 
With burning cheeks and quivering lips, Florence 
followed Sir Louis down the staircase, since he could 
do no less than show her to her carriage. Had she 
played her part so badly as all that? Was it possible 
that he, too, had seen through the feint of conven- 
tional friendliness? The mere thought of the danger 
gave her such a new and desperate courage, that pres- 
ently she discovered that she was making the best 
small talk she had ever achieved. The improvements 
in the castle, the prospects of amusement for the sum- 
mer, even the gossip of the neighbourhood, all was 
touched upon as she followed him down the narrow 
staircase, thanking God the while that he could not 
see her face. 

You seem in excellent spirits,” remarked Sir 
Louis as he handed her to her seat. 


202 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


He spoke quietly, but with that same hard smile 
she had noticed about him on the occasion of their first 
meeting. It was a new trick of his, that smile, com- 
ing at intervals with a sort of mechanical regularity; 
she did not remember seeing it in the days of their 
engagement. 

It is your wife that has infected me,’’ laughed 
Florence, audaciously, for fear of breaking down. 

It does one good to see any one as happy as she is.” 

Virtuous people are always happy, are they 
not?” remarked Sir Louis, gravely. I learnt that 
at school, so it must be true; besides, of course, I ex- 
perience the same thing in myself. Good-bye, I hope 
you will have a pleasant drive.” 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

THE TWO FLOS. 

Once out of sight of the castle, Florence handed 
the reins to the groom, and leant back in her seat. As 
the excitement of the meeting subsided, she discov- 
ered that she had brought away with her from that 
first visit to Stonefield a feeling of unaccountable de- 
pression. Uncomfortable doubts were beginning to 
stir within her. She was aware of having sacrificed 
her happiness, and she wanted now to see the good re- 
sults of that sacrifice, and as yet, she had not been able 
to discover them. 

Neither did the further meetings that followed 
bring her any nearer to her end. It was now only 
that she began to understand the former Miss Far- 
thingall a little better. The necessity for constant 
effort being removed, Corrie no longer took the pains 
to keep up appearances as perfectly as formerly. Her 
passion for Louis had been a real passion, of its kind, 
but it had burnt itself out by this time, as did all her 
cravings, when once satisfied. Her hot-blooded, yet 
shallow nature was physically and morally incapable 
of remaining faithful to any one affection for any 
length of time. At the end of six months already 
Sir Louis had become to her only the unavoidable ap- 
14 203 


204 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


pendage to the wealth which she had so successfully 
manoeuvred to secure, and already she knew that 
should she require new excitement, she would have to 
look for it elsewhere than in her husband. 

AYithout guessing half of this, Florence yet under- 
stood that Lady Ilepburne was not the woman whom, 
in her purity and trustfulness, she had taken her to 
be. Could this frivolous and obviously worldly crea- 
ture be indeed the same person who had confided to 
her the story of an undying passion, only a year ago? 
She discovered all sorts of faults in Lady Hepburne 
which she had never noticed in Miss Farthingall. 
Slowly the suspicion took root within her that she did 
not truly love Louis, that she had never loved him — 
not in the sense in which Florence herself understood 
love — and that Louis himself was not happy in his 
marriage. He was a changed man altogether; in one 
year he had aged incredibly, not so much in appear- 
ance as in manner. He spoke and moved more slowly 
than formerly, and seemed to choose his words more 
deliberately, as a man does who knows that it is a 
necessity to keep a constant guard over himself. He 
still worked hard at the improvements of his house 
and estate, but he went at it now with a sort of dogged 
energy, very different from the boyish eagerness of 
other days. Ho, he was not happy. Florence had 
reached the point of recognizing this, though without 
being able to disentangle the nature of the mixed 
sensations which assailed her, for if it was torturing 
to watch his disappointment, was there not also a little 
hidden rapture in the thought that this might possibly 
mean that he had not forgotten her? It was a rapture 
in which it was impossible to indulge, and so deeply 


THE TWO FLOS. 


205 


mixed with, pain that she could not tell the two 
apart. 

Thus the summer slipped by, never having 
brought anything but the most conventional meetings 
in public, or the most commonplace remarks ex- 
changed at the dinner-table or on the tennis-ground. 
Then there came an exquisite September day, a day 
with all the glow of summer in its sunshine, and all 
the keenness of autumn in its shadows, and this was 
the day that was destined to bring about a change in 
the attitude of the two actors who had been playing 
this comedy of indifference in each other’s, and in the 
world’s eyes all summer. 

Lady Hepburne had assembled the whole neigh- 
bourhood in honour of her birthday — the first of her 
birthdays which had ever been celebrated with any- 
thing more solemn than a sponge-cake and a few 
pennyworths of lollipops. There was no denying 
that whatever Lady Hepburne had as yet done in the 
way of entertainment had been remarkably well done ; 
therefore it was only natural that curiosity as to how 
she would manage a garden fHe caused almost every 
invitation to be accepted, more especially as by this 
time, owing to the dexterity with which she had 
played her cards, all that people remembered of 
Corrie’s antecedents was that she had been the daugh- 
ter of a brilliant and distinguished officer. Florence, 
knowing that she could not absent herself without 
remark, had made a virtue of necessity. The gardens 
were full already when she arrived under the wing of 
a borrowed chaperon, and Lady Hepburne the centre 
of an obsequious group. There were two persons in 
the group whom Florence had never seen before — two 


206 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


half-grown girls with large lemon-coloured freckles 
on their chins and about their temples, and who, by 
their movements, gave the impression of having put 
on their first long skirts that very morning. 

‘‘ My quondam pupils,’’ said Lady Hepburne, 
laughingly, by way of an introduction to Florence. 
The ex-governess never made the mistake of ignoring 
her former occupation, which was exactly the way of 
keeping people from talking about it. You remem- 
ber my talking to you of the Macallans, don’t you, 
and my stay in Scotland? ” 

Florence put out her hand in silence. Was it like- 
ly that she should forget either the name or the cir- 
cumstance? 

You can’t imagine how glad they are to see their 
old governess again,” went on Lady Hepburne, lean- 
ing back in her basket chair just enough to display 
the clocks of her silk stockings. It just shows what 
a nice governess I must have been; ” and she smiled 
round at the company generally, the male members of 
which hastened to agree with her. 

I’ve never had a pupil who wasn’t glad to see 
me again. How, if Cissy Carter were to turn up any 
day, I’m sure she’d just fiy into my arms straight 
away.” 

Shows her good taste,” interpolated Lord Ar- 
lington, with a stare which, although broad, seemed 
to give no offence. 

And yet I wasn’t with her more than six weeks 
— just during the voyage out, in fact. By the way, 
Maggie, what news have you of the Carters? I sup- 
pose they’re still alive? ” 

Maggie murmured something about the Carters 


THE TWO FLOS. 


207 


meaning to come home next year, in order to fetch 
their son from college. 

^^Jim; yes, I remember him; he had rather a 
good shape of nose,’^ said Lady Hepburne, reflectively. 

Florence turned away. She didn’t want to hear 
more either about the Macallans or their Australian 
friends; both these names were too much mixed up 
with painful memories to fall agreeably on her ears. 
And the spectacle of Lady Hepburne revelling in this 
fresh triumph — for to have conflded to her care the 
very girls whose education in former years she had 
not been considered fit to conduct, was a very tangible 
triumph — somehow irritated her to-day, and made her 
fear for her self-possession. 

An hour and more passed in quite a commonplace 
way, exactly as it should pass at a well-regulated 
garden-party. Lady Hepburne did the honours to per- 
fection, limply assisted by Edith, whose look of abject 
humility served admirably to set off the security of the 
hostess. 

It was getting late when Florence caught sight of 
Sir Louis taking his place on one of the tennis- 
grounds. It was the first glimpse she had had of 
him to-day, and immediately she knew what she had 
been waiting for. Ller attentive cavalier had just 
gone off in search of a cup of tea, and, finding herself 
alone for the moment, she dared to let her eyes rest 
from afar on that tall form, whose splendid propor- 
tions were displayed to perfection by the thin flannel 
suit and the rapid movements of the game. So long 
she gazed that she forgot where she was, and started 
at last guiltily on feeling a hand laid lightly on her 
shoulder. Turning quickly, she found her hostess’s 


208 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


blue eyes watching her from under the flounce of a 
rose-coloured parasol. 

If you could have seen your face just now!’' 
laughed Corrie, lightly, but not in the least unkindly. 

Is it as bad as that? But never mind, my dear,” she 
added, with a reassuring pat on the shoulder, nobody 
else saw it, and I am not easily jealous.” 

Florence rose to her feet with an indignant reply 
on her lips; but at that moment Mr. Melton turned 
the corner close at hand with a tea-cup carefully bal- 
anced in his hand, and it became impossible to speak. 

Lady Hepburne flitted away to another group; 
and, somehow or other, Florence, having presently 
managed to get rid of Mr. Melton, escaped alone to 
the more distant parts of the grounds. She felt that 
she could not trust herself to speak to any one else 
just yet. The weariness and distaste which had' been 
upon her ever since she had caught sight of that 
central group on the lawn, had culminated in indig- 
nation at the frivolous words just uttered. Tired 
and excited, she was aware only of the desire to be 
alone. 

Flaving gained the shelter of some shrubs, she 
relaxed her pace, and wandered on aimlessly, in search 
only of some private corner where she would not be 
immediately discovered. Presently her passage was 
stopped by a stone wall; but the door in it was not 
locked, and, with a sigh of relief, she closed it behind 
her, and found herself in a long strip of garden, sunk 
between high stone walls, on whose sun-baked surface 
the last of the peaches were ripening apace. It was 
hotter here than outside in the grounds; between these 
massive walls the autumn sunshine seemed to have 


THE TWO FLOS. 


209 


been caught as in a trap, and not to have found its 
way out again. 

Here I shall be alone/’ thought Florence, and 
at that moment she turned a corner, and saw close be- 
side her a large cushioned chair on wheels, and seated 
in it a white-haired old lady with emaciated features, 
dozing in the sunshine. At the sound of Florence’s 
step on the gravel she opened her eyes and stared about 
her vaguely. 

Florence had stood still abruptly. She had never 
before seen the dowager Lady Hepburne, who always 
remained invisible to visitors; but, the first astonish- 
ment past, she understood immediately who this 
must be. 

You are his mother? ” she said, without re- 
fiection. 

Yes, I am his mother,” the other answered as 
readily. It did not seem to occur to her to ask who 
might be meant by he.” She gazed at Florence 
approvingly. And who are you, my dear?” she 
asked with mild interest. 

^H? Oh, I am only Flo — Flo Crossley, you 
know.” 

A cloud of bewilderment descended on to the 
white face. The long fingers began to play nerv- 
ously with the handkerchief. 

But that cannot be,” she said gently; because 
Flo Crossley married my son.” 

No, no! ” cried Florence, starting as though she 
had been stung. From Louis himself she knew that 
his mother’s intellect was weakened; but Lady Hep- 
burne, basking peacefully in the sunshine, with her 
lace cap on her head and her handkerchief in her 


210 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


hand, looked so stately and so venerable that, even if 
Florence had been calm enough to reflect, it would 
have been hard to realize any deflciency of faculties. 

]^o, no; he did not marry her! ’’ 

The bewilderment on Lady Hepburne’s face in- 
creased. 

I know of only one Flo,’’ she repeated in a tone 
of distress, and she is married to my boy.” 

It was Florence’s turn to be puzzled. 

But she is not called Flo,” she began; then, as 
a light broke in upon her, Has she taken my name? ” 
she cried, overcome by a sudden wave of anger. 

Since she has taken everything else, she might have 
left me my name, at least. Oh, this is crueller than 
all the rest ! ” 

The old lady looked at Florence’s flashing eyes, 
and suddenly her own were illuminated by a passing 
gleam of understanding. She bent towards the ex- 
cited girl. 

Are you fond of him? ” she asked softly. 

Yes, God forgive me, I am! I love him more 
than my life, and have loved him so ever since I first 
knew him; and I am Flo, the real Flo, whom he was 
to have married, and who loves him much — much 
better than that other one does ! ” 

She was kneeling on the gravel now and passion- 
ately pressing one of Lady Hepburne’s thin hands to 
her wet eyes. If she had ever known her mother, 
it is possible that she might have been able to resist the 
temptation of unburdening herself in this minute; 
but the thought that this was his mother, who ought 
to have been her own too, was not to be resisted. 

Florence was still kneeling beside the chair, and 


THE TWO FLOS. 


211 


no further word had been spoken, when the sound 
of the garden gate falling to made her throw a startled 
glance over her shoulder. Sir Louis, with his tennis- 
racket in his hand, was coming up the same walk by 
which she had approached, with the intention no 
doubt of looking after his mother. 

Florence rose hastily to her feet; in her present 
state of emotion she felt it impossible to face him. 
Without looking back again she hurried away in the 
opposite direction. 

Sir Louis’s eyes followed her with a look of aston- 
ishment. Even as he stopped beside his mother’s 
chair she had not entirely disappeared. When the 
last gleam of her dress had vanished, his eyes came 
back to his mother’s face questioningly. But it was 
she who spoke first. 

Tell me, Louis,” she began tremulously, are 
there two Flo’s, or only one? I can’t understand it 
at all.” 

What do you mean?” he asked very low. 
‘‘ why do you ask? ” 

Because there was some one here who called her- 
self Flo, and who said that she loves you better than 
her life and has always loved you so, and I don’t 
understand who she is.” 

‘‘ She said that? ” asked Sir Louis, catching hold 
of his mother’s hand with a grip of whose vigour he 
was not at all aware. 

Yes, she said that, and also that some one else 
had taken everything from her — even her name,” re- 
peated the invalid, mechanically. The gleam of in- 
telligence had long since died out of her eyes; her 
poor sick spirit was weary of the subject. And she 


212 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


was crying as she said it — there! My hand is still 
wet with her tears/^ she added fretfully. Let go 
my hand, Louis, that I may wipe them off! Let go, 
please! You are hurting me, Louis! 

Instead of letting go. Sir Louis carried the feeble 
fingers impulsively to his lips and kissed them eagerly 
— almost greedily. 

Oh, thank you, mother! he murmured, his 
breath cut short by the violence of the emotion which 
had seized him. You don’t know what good news 
you have given me. Thank you, my own sweet 
mother, thank you a thousand times! ” 

In the next moment she was sitting once more 
alone, blinking her eyes in the autumn sunshine as 
she looked after the retreating figure of her son, un- 
derstanding nothing at all, and trying to puzzle out in 
her poor weakened brain what it was that she was be- 
ing thanked for. 

Sir Louis had gone but a few steps when the wild 
elation on his face went out with the suddenness of a 
candle extinguished. He stood still, gnawing his lip 
and frowning at the gravel. He had only just real- 
ized that he was hurrying after Florence; that at the 
rate at which he was walking he must infallibly over- 
take her before she had reached the end of the garden. 
And then? 

‘‘ Fool! ” he said aloud, striking his forehead with 
the palm of his hand. What am I rejoicing for? 
I was nearly forgetting that there is another Flo! ” 


CHAPTEE XX. 


AT THE TOY HAVEN. 

Xext day, at about the same hour at which she 
had entered the Stonefield garden, Florence was walk- 
ing along by the river, on her way back from the 
village. It was not the shortest way home, but in this 
wilderness of willow bushes, interspersed with spots 
of greensward and of silver-white sand, there was some- 
thing particularly soothing to a troubled spirit, and 
Florence’s spirit was troubled to-day, for she could 
not forgive herself yesterday’s want of self-control. 
It had been in order to banish the reproaches that pur- 
sued her that she had bethought herself this afternoon 
of some of those village proteges who since her re- 
turn from Xice had somehow come to be a tiny bit 
neglected. But the expedition, instead of bringing 
relief, had brought fresh irritation. The couple 
whom she had married last year had not only quar- 
relled, but separated; and Tom Leake’s nephews were 
turning out a regular plague to the household, and 
were on the point of being turned into the street by 
their enraged adoptive father. As Florence made her 
way slowly and listlessly between the willow bushes, 
she was asking herself whether it might not be better 
after all to let people manage their own affairs for 
213 


214 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


themselves. A profound discouragement was upon 
her, a feeling to which her vigorous nature very rarely 
yielded. 

Presently she reached the turn of the path which 
would take her home, but, instead of following it any 
further, she set her face towards the river. There 
was a spot in her mind which she meant to reach, a 
sheltered nook where the water, cutting sharply in- 
land, made a bay among the bushes, fringed with long 
grasses and paved with the finest, whitest sand. In 
former days this hidden spot had played a more impor- 
tant part in her eyes than now, for it was here that she 
had often and often come with her nurse to sail her 
paper boats upon this very ideal of a toy haven, or to dig 
with her wooden spade in the beautiful, glistening sand. 
Yet even after the age of paper boats was passed, this 
corner where the willow branches met overhead, and 
where the water lapped gently against the shore, had 
retained a certain favour in her eyes. She loved to 
come here on still evenings and to sit and think of 
nothing in particular upon one of the old willow stems 
which the spring fioods had uprooted. It was a haunt 
which she had betrayed to no one, except indeed to 
Louis, during the time of their short engagement. 

To-day was the very day for the toy haven. There 
was not a breath of wind stirring, and for sound only 
the occasional flutter of a yellow willow leaf, as it sank 
slowly to the ground. A little while ago she had heard 
other sounds, that of distant shots resounding sharp 
and crisp through the clear September air, and she 
had remembered that the neighbouring covers were 
being beaten to-day; but the sounds had died away 
even before she had left the path. 


AT THE TOY HAVEN. 


215 


There was no distinct track to follow; but, know- 
ing as she did every bush by sight, she found the place 
without difficulty. Parting the supple branches, she 
stepped out on to the shore of the river, and imme- 
diately found herself face to face with Sir Louis Hep- 
burne. 

He was in shooting clothes, and had laid his gun 
beside him on the sand, while, with his arm resting on 
the crooked branch beside him, he stood in the attitude 
of one who is waiting, and who has possibly been wait- 
ing for some time. 

Her first impulse was one of unreasoning terror, 
but as she turned to fiy he barred her passage with one 
step. 

'No/^ he said, in so masterful a manner that, de- 
spite her high spirit, she inwardly quailed, you must 
not go yet; you have first got to stop and listen to 
what I have to say.’’ 

His hand was on her arm; she could feel the grip 
of his fingers through the light woollen stuff of her 
sleeve. By the tone of his voice she knew that it would 
be useless to resist. There was an old willow trunk 
beside her, with its roots in the air, yet still green and 
alive, after the dauntless manner of the willow. She 
moved towards it, for she understood that something 
terrible was coming, and she felt that she was trem- 
bling. Unconsciously bowing her head, as though in 
submission, she sank down upon the rough seat and 
waited for his next words. 

It is a good thing that you thought of coming 
here to-day,” he began, after a moment of painful sus- 
pense on her part, for it was absolutely necessary 
that we should meet. If the occasion had not made 


216 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


itself, I should have had to make it. I saw you leave 
the village, and I watched you from afar. When you 
left the path I guessed where you^^^vere going, and I 
took my direction, for I meant to hfere before you. 
You have chosen the spot well; nobody will disturb us 
here.’’ He laughed so disagreeably that she glanced 
up in sudden fear. 

Don’t be afraid,” he said roughly. I am not 
going to make love to you; I am not in the humour 
for that. You will hear no pretty speeches from me 
to-day. I have tracked you here only to tell you that 
I have made a discovery. Are you curious? Well, 
I have discovered — never mind how- — that you love 
me, and that you loved me at the time when you broke 
your engagement to me. Can you look me in the 
face and deny that it is so? ” 

Instead of looking him in the face she cowered 
away before him, letting her head sink a little lower 
on her breast. 

Speak! ” he said imperiously. Do you deny 

it?” 

I do not deny it,” she said, just audibly. I 
told you at the time that I — still cared for you, and 
that it was only a sense of duty which prompted me to 
act. Don’t you remember? ” 

He ground the heel of his heavy boot into the sand 
at his feet. 

Yes, I remember; but I thought you were 
lying. I know better now — unluckily for us both, 
and it is because I know better that I have come here 
to-day to accuse you of having spoilt my life.” 

Are you unhappy? ” The words were over her 
Ups before she was aware of the thought. 


AT THE TOY HAVEN. 


217 


He went on without heeding. 

So long as I could suppose that you were tired of 
me I could have forgiven you, for that would have 
been a mere want of constancy, and no one can govern 
their affections; but now that I know that it was not 
so, that it was because of one of your wild, crooked 
notions of duty that you threw me over, I cannot for- 
give you — no, and I never shall. What right had 
you — what right? he repeated, and the false calm 
of his manner suddenly gave way. Your own hap- 
piness was your own to throw to the winds, if you 
liked, but what God in heaven or on earth could give 
you the right to sacrifice my happiness as well? A 
sense of duty, indeed! Ha, ha! and he laughed 
loudly and harshly. Do you want to know what 
your sense of duty has brought me to? Have you a 
notion of the fearful responsibility you took upon 
yourself that day in the Long Walk? Do you under- 
stand what it means to spoil a man’s life? Listen, 
and I will tell you. It is the last time that we shall 
ever talk anything but commonplaces, therefore every- 
thing that has to be said must be said to-day.” 

Then in a few abrupt phrases, and with a pitiless 
plainness that knew no regard either for himself or 
for others, he gave her the history of his engagement. 

When I found myself bound to her,” — thus 
presently ran the dryly given narrative — I did all 
that a man can do to revive my former fancy for her, 
or at least to find satisfaction in her apparent passion 
for me. This helped to tide me over the engagement, 
and by the time I was surfeited by her obtrusive affec- 
tion it was too late to go back — I was a married man. 
I had been fool enough to believe that she loved me. 


218 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


but that blindness was short. No danger of her affec- 
tion bothering me now. My life and her life are two 
things apart; and what mine is I dare not tell you, 
even at this moment — what it may yet become I dare 
not think within my own soul. The woman who 
should be my helpmate stands in my way at every 
turn. But I do not blame her, I blame you. It is 
not at her door that I lay the ruin of my life, it is at 
yours. You are a good woman, and she is a bad one, 
and yet you have done me more harm than she has. 
She is nothing worse than a successful adventuress. 
She has only done what she could to secure a good 
berth, while you have deliberately taken my heart in 
your hands and crushed it out of a pure caprice. She 
has got what she wanted, but only because you drove 
me from you. My blindness may have been at fault, 
her cunning, many chance circumstances, but none of 
them would have had any power if you had been true ; 
it was none of these, it was you alone who hounded 
me into this most unhappy marriage. Are you satis- 
fied with your work. Miss Providence? 

With white and quivering lips Florence sat listen- 
ing to each word as it fell. Much of what he said 
seemed but the echo of those doubts which had 
haunted her all summer, but the fierce bitterness of 
their expression took away her breath. Her heart 
was bleeding within her; and yet, although alarm at 
her own work was blanching her cheeks, and although 
inwardly quailing at the passion in his manner, she 
would not have been Florence if she had yielded all 
at once. No doubt she had acted rashly — it was im- 
possible not to recognize this; yet even in this mo- 
ment of supreme anguish something within her re- 


AT THE TOY HAVEN. 


219 


belled. It was in the very excess of the reproaches 
flung at her, in their very bitterness and harshness 
that she found the strength to attempt a last de- 
fence. 

How can I be satisfled/’ she asked, forcing back 
the tears that stung her eyelids, and would have made 
her voice unsteady, since it has turned out so badly ? 
I suppose I was imprudent, that I ought to have made 
more inquiries. But, at the time, I seemed to be act- 
ing rightly; her name was compromised through you; 
it was your duty 

She stopped short, frightened by the look on his 
face. 

That word again! Do you still dare to pro- 
nounce it to my face? Are you not afraid of tempt- 
ing me beyond all bounds? ’’ 

I could not have married you with that woman 
standing* between us,^’ she managed to say, though 
she was trembling. In her eyes there shone the last 
gleam of that old obstinacy which had been her undo- 
ing. But oh, my God 1 burst from her in the 
same breath, I would give half my life if she had 
never been born! ’’ 

She fell forward with her face in her hands. The 
tears had come now, despite all resistance, and were 
pouring hot and thick from between her Angers. 

He watched her in stony silence, not moving a 
muscle of his face. He w^as not afraid of watching 
her, knowing well that there was no danger of his 
being softened by the sight of her tears, for in what 
he felt just now anger was too busy to leave any part 
to tenderness. At this moment what he saw in her 
was not the woman he loved, but the wilful destroyer 
15 


220 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


of his happiness. If to watch her weep awoke any 
emotion within him, it was one of grim satisfaction. 

You wanted to know what it feels like to he 
unhappy, did you not? he asked, as her sobs slowly 
subsided. Well, you can have your wish now! ’’ 

It was a cruel word and cruelly said. Ilis whole 
manner and bearing and even a certain sharpness in 
the tone of his voice was that of a man who has been 
tried beyond endurance, whose rebellious soul is con- 
sumed by inward rage, whose whole nature stands in 
danger of being warped by the crookedness of circum- 
stances. 

Without lifting her head, she wept on in silence. 
The hidden spot began to be crossed and recrossed by 
the level beams of the sinking sun, which was laying 
bars of gold on the white sand and warming the grey 
old willow trunks into momentary ruddiness. On the 
surface of the toy haven a yellow leaf sailed placidly, 
sole successor of the paper boats of other days. 

What are you crying about?’’ he asked with 
dawning impatience when another long minute had 
passed. You wanted it so. God had given us a 
true and pure love, that rarest and best of gifts which 
he gives to men and women; the world had showered 
upon us all we could need for our welfare, but you 
wanted to be wiser than the world, wiser than the 
real Providence above, so you flung the gift from 
yourself, and stole it from me.” 

He drew a long breath, passing his hand across 
his forehead, then he stooped for his gun. 

You know all now; I am going. Do not be 
afraid of further reproaches. It was necessary that 
you should hear this, but now I am done. It is time 


AT THE TOY HAVEN. 


221 


to put on the mask again. I told you once that we 
must be either lovers or strangers. You have elected 
that we should be strangers, and so it shall be. Good- 
bye, Florence. Why are you crying still? Is it be- 
cause you love me? I think it is, but I do not thank 
you for that love. If I had never known you, I might 
have been happy.^^ 

Long after he had left her, Florence sat bowed 
upon the willow stem, broken in soul and body. It 
was a much bitterer moment than when he had left 
her in the Long Walk, a year and more ago, for then 
she had still believed that she was doing something 
good and great, while now it was coming to her slowly 
that she had only succeeded in doing something that 
was both small and foolish. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


THE CARTERS. 

A GOLDEH June day, coming after a wet June 
week, which means no dust, and yet no draggled 
skirts, and far more smiling faces than cross ones to he 
met with in the streets. It is only the deadsick or 
the incurably melancholy who can manage to look 
morose to-day; every ordinary person’s good humour 
is celebrating its resurrection after a week of burial 
behind dripping umbrellas and streaming window- 
panes. 

It was the first day on which London appeared 
supportable to Florence. When in the spring it had 
been decided, not exactly hy her father, but for him — 
for on these occasions there are never wanting troops 
of elderly lady friends with bagfuls of good advice, 
calculated to regulate the steps of a helpless widower 
— that it was more than high time for her to put in 
an appearance in London, Florence had offered as 
little resistance as had done her suffering, but gently 
resigned, parent. There was even a certain prospect 
of relief in the plan. It was awkward to be continu- 
ally thrown together with the two eligible partis who, 
during the past winter had openly aspired to her hand, 
and both of whom she had summarily dismissed, to 
222 


THE CARTERS. 


223 


the indignation of the county. But there was another 
much stronger ground for desiring a change of scene, 
for if she did meet Louis in London, it would be in a 
crowd, where he would not be forced to see her, nor 
she him. 

Since that day in September they had never again 
spoken in private, and each meeting in public had 
been to her a moment of torture. Looked at in the 
light of that confession made by the riverside, it was 
only too easy to read aright every gesture and every 
glance. This hardened, bitter man was her buoyant, 
eager Louis of other days, and it was she who had 
made him into this. And yet there was nothing for it 
now but to stand aside and watch the gulf widening 
between husband and wife, and mark every symp- 
tom which proclaimed their absolute unsuitableness 
to each other. And through it all she knew that he 
still loved her. He had not, indeed, told her so on 
that terrible day of reckoning, but despite what had 
looked almost like hatred in his glance, her woman’s 
instinct had read the truth. She understood that 
nothing but a fiercely disappointed love could have 
made him so merciless. Yet the thought was too 
full of the agony of a wasted happiness to leave any 
room for rejoicing. 

To London, therefore, she had come, hoping that 
the rattle and clash of society would over-scream that 
small, persistent voice within her, which cried out 
without stopping for that which it had wasted and 
wanted back again. And London had received her 
with a lowering brow and a dark, tear-stained face, 
which seemed to promise no lightening of the burden. 

But to-day, to-day, at last, the sun was shining. 


224 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


and Florence, being young, in spite of her sorrow, 
and healthy, despite the past period of delicacy, be- 
gan to hope for better things. 

As she sat deeply ensconced in an easy-chair she 
had a half-cut novel on her knee, yet her thoughts 
were busy, not with the book, but with the dinner- 
party to which she had been last night. She had 
made an acquaintance there of whom she had been 
thinking almost ever since. At the very moment of 
entering the room her eyes had fallen on a large, plain 
woman, whose striking resemblance to Louis had sent 
a dart of pain through her heart. A few minutes 
later she had been presented to Mrs. Ripon, and had 
recognized the name of Sir Louis’s married sister. 

She could not say whether it was the strong re- 
semblance or whether it was something in the large 
and somewhat hard features, and the straightforward, 
abrupt manner which had attracted her, but from the 
moment of shaking hands she had felt that she would 
like this woman for a friend — and, strangely enough, 
it almost seemed as though the liking were mutual. 
Strange, indeed! for why should Mrs. Ripon feel 
any good will towards the girl who had jilted her 
brother? 

As Florence sat quite still with her book on her 
knee, she was wondering how soon she would see Mrs. 
Ripon again. To have Louis’s sister for her friend! 
there was something thrilling and yet almost alarming 
in the thought. With Edith she had never managed 
to get on; such an excess of humility and submission 
was too contrary to Florence’s own temper not to act 
as an irritant. I feel tempted sometimes to stick pins 
into her,” she had on one occasion confided to the 


THE CARTERS. 


225 


vicar, just in order to see whether she has bones or 
not, or is nothing but soft, yielding flesh! ’’ 

It was even hard to realize that this limp, white- 
skinned creature was Louis’s sister, whereas Mrs. 
Eipon bore the relationship written on her face. 

I wonder if she has thought of me since yester- 
day,” mused Florence. Perhaps I only imagined 
that she liked me. She’ll be full of engagements, of 
course.” 

Mrs. Eipon ! ” announced a footman, flinging 
open the door. 

Florence sprang to her feet, while the novel 
dropped unheeded to the floor. This so prompt answer 
to her thoughts had a semi-stupefying effect. It was 
Mrs. Eipon who began to talk, and who also picked up 
the novel. 

Mercy, child! you do look scared. Have I 
frightened you? What were you thinking of when I 
came in? ” 

I was thinking of you,” stammered Florence. 

Her new friend gave her a keener look. And 
when one talks of the wolf — or, perhaps, only thinks 
of him — one is apt to see his tail, you know.” 

She took hold of Florence’s two hands, and looked 
her in the eyes. 

Of course I know that I ought to hate you by 
rights — but somehow I don’t; and, therefore, I pro- 
pose that you should come with me for a turn in the 
park. It’s a dream of a day, and I’ve scarcely had 
a breath of air for a week; and I’m sure you haven’t 
either. Will you come?” 

Of course I will! ” said Florence, flushing with 
pleasure. 


226 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Her heart beat high as she looked into the face 
of her new friend, and yet it was by no means a beauti- 
ful face to look at. Those same materials — the mass- 
ive forehead, large nose, and square chin — which 
went to make up the face of a handsome man, had 
resulted here in a distinctly plain woman, but one 
in whose physiognomy force was paired with a certain 
sympathetic warmth which just saved her from de- 
serving the epithet of masculine.’’ The likeness to 
Louis was bewildering. It was a strangely exciting 
sensation to see those same brown eyes, which for two 
years past had never looked at her otherwise than with 
scorn and reproach, now gazing at her with kindly 
goodwill; and it made her heart foolishly rejoice to 
be smiled at by that same somewhat broad mouth with 
the large, even white teeth, which nowadays never 
smiled at all. 

Ten minutes later, Florence and Mrs. Eipon were 
rolling over the pavement side by side, in a peculiarly 
comfortable victoria. 

After all, London was not so bad, thought Flor- 
ence, as she watched the first really light dresses of 
the season fiuttering along the pavement under the 
branches of the vivid green trees, which stretched 
their arms over the park railing, and had luckily not 
had time to get dusty. 

By-the-by,” remarked Mrs. Ripon, presently. 
Before we turn into the park, I must positively look 
in on the Carters. I hope you don’t mind? ” 

Oh, no. Why should I? But who are ±he 
Carters? ” 

It seemed to Florence that she had heard the name 
before, although she could not have said where. 


THE CARTERS. 


227 


They’re those Australian acquaintances of the 
Macallans — our cousins, you know. They were kind 
to Archie Macallan, while he was making his world- 
tour, some half-dozen years ago — Melbourne business 
people, I believe. They came home last month to 
fetch their eldest son from college; and yesterday I 
had a letter from Annie Macallan, begging me to 
look them up. It won’t be more than a mere look, 
though, for they’re packing up for the journey. Here 
we are. Will you come up with me, or stay in the 
carriage ? ” 

I will come up with you,” said Tlorence, some 
sudden impulse of curiosity seizing her. 

She thought she would rather like to see the people 
with whom the former Miss Farthingall had sailed 
for Australia. 

The hotel sitting-room, into which the two ladies 
were ushered, bore on it the stamp of impending de- 
parture in an even higher degree than is usually the 
case on such occasions. Open boxes, gaping provision- 
baskets, plaid straps, brown paper and twine — as well 
as the usual unavoidable supply of parcels that have 
arrived in a heap at the eleventh hour — usurped the 
furniture so completely that it was with some difficulty 
that a sofa could be cleared for the visitors. Fortu- 
nately, neither Mrs. nor Miss Carter, the only members 
of the family present, appeared in the least flurried by 
the intrusion. As Florence entered in the wake of 
her chaperon, the first thing she caught sight of was 
a handsome tom-boy of a girl, with short brown curls 
tumbling about her eyes and the most brilliant com- 
plexion she had ever seen, kneeling on a trunk which 
a maid was making frantic efforts to lock. It was 


228 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


from the top of the trunk that she acknowledged the 
presence of the visitors by a friendly nod, and it was 
not until the rebellious lock had yielded that she de- 
scended from her elevation, and immediately took 
possession of Florence. By this time, the introduc- 
tions and explanations were over, and Mrs. Carter — 
who had evidently, in her day, been quite as tom-boy- 
ish as her daughter, and was still almost as handsome, 
with the same brilliant complexion, only coarsened 
by age, the same brown locks, only mixed with grey, 
the same substantial figure and somewhat haphazard 
manners — was talking volubly and vigorously to Mrs. 
Eipon. Florence was rather glad when the brown- 
haired girl swooped down upon her, for the talk all 
turned round the name of Macallan, a theme in which 
she was unable to take part. 

Come along; we’ll be ever so much jollier over 
there by ourselves! ” 

It was thus Florence heard herself addressed, and, 
finding Cissy Carter’s lively black eyes fixed upon • 
her, she rose with an amused smile on her lips to fol- 
low the invitation. 

It’s the Macallans now and Scotland,” con- 
fidentially explained Cissy, as she led the way across 
the big room, but presently it’ll be Jim and his 
studies, and his masters, and his scrapes, and his vir- 
tues, and I’ve had just about enough of that this last 
week. One can be jolly fond of one’s brother, you 
know, without caring to have him dished up seventeen 
times a day. You just sit down there and tell me a 
little about London, and how many balls you’ve been 
to, and what frocks you wore. I’m in love with Lon- 
don, you know, and it’s just maddening to have to go 


THE CARTERS. 


229 


off to-morrow without having seen anything but the 
streets. Now, please begin. Don’t think I’m not lis- 
tening because I’m moving about; but you see our 
hours are numbered, and there are millions of things 
to pack. Just look at those books, and all these photos! 
Mother never will move anywhere without her. photos; 
she says it gives her a feeling of having her friends 
about her. Now about the balls. Did you say five 
or six? ” 

I did not say anything at all,” laughed Florence; 
but I have only been to one ball so far, and I didn’t 
even find it amusing. Let me help you with those 
photos; you are going to let them drop — there! ” 

It was too late to do anything but assist in the 
picking up. The first photograph which chanced to 
come into Florence’s hand as she stooped towards the 
floor was a family group of the Macallans, one which 
she had seen at Stonefield; the second and third were 
unknown to her; but the fourth again seemed famil- 
iar — a, slender figure in a white muslin dress. She 
took it up again to look at it more closely. 

Why, that is Lady Hepburne ! ” she said 
quickly. 

Cissy, still crouching on the floor, looked up. 

That? Oh no; that is Mrs. Wax, the widow — 
the one who used to be Miss Farthingall.” 

Of course she used to be Miss Farthingall, but 
she is Lady Hepburne now.” 

Perhaps we’re not talking of the same person. 
I mean the Miss Farthingall who used to be my 
governess.” 

And so do I. A small, fair-haired person — in 
fact, just the person on this photograph.” 


230 


MISS PEOVIDENCE. 


That’s her exactly.” 

Then why do you call her Mrs. — what? ” 

AVax. AVhy do you call her Lady Hepburne? ” 
Please answer my question first.” 

‘‘ I call her Mrs. AVax because she married a man 
called AVax. A pretty good reason, surely?” 

Florence sat with the photograph in her hand, 
staring at Cissy Carter with wide, uncomprehending 
eyes. 

I don’t understand. It can’t be the same.” 

Oh yes, it can. It was when we left her behind 
us at Sydney. AV^e’d had small-pox on board, you 
know, and Miss Farthingall caught it, so on landing 
we just handed her over to the hospital. AA^e were 
quite sorry to leave her that way, but father had busi- 
ness waiting for him at Melbourne, and besides, of 
course, we couldn’t risk infecting ourselves. It’s a 
case where people just have to look after themselves,” 
chattered on Cissy, with robustly naive heartlessness, 
as her brilliant red lips smiled radiantly at Florence, 
and her strong brown hands busily collected the scat- 
tered photographs. Ain’t I right? ” 

Yes, yes; please go on with your story! ” 

AA^ell, we told her that she might follow us in 
case she got well, but she never turned up, and we 
quite thought she was dead, until one day, about a 
year later, we suddenly had a glimpse of her in the 
street, dressed in the most bewitching widow’s weeds 
you can imagine. This made us curious, of course, 
and mother began to inquire, and somehow we found 
out that this man AV^ax, who had been making eyes at 
Miss Farthingall during all the passage out, had 
tracked her to the hospital and beleaguered her there. 


THE CARTERS. 


231 


He gave himself out for something much bigger than 
he was, for he was really only a clerk in one of the 
Melbourne banks, and a regular bad lot into the bar- 
gain, who had either forged or cheated, or done some- 
thing or other; but, luckily for her, he got smashed 

up in the big railway accident above H , only a 

few months after the marriage, and before the police 
had managed to get hold of him.^^ 

And she was in mourning for him? ’’ asked Flor- 
ence, still in wonder. 

Naturally, since she was his widow. We didn’t 
come across her again after that sight in the street, 
and I never thought I should hear of her again, until 
you spotted the photograph just now.” 

don’t believe it!” said Florence, with an 
abrupt shake of her head, as she threw the picture on 
the table. 

What do you not believe? Is there anything 
so out of the way in a governess marrying a clerk? 
But it’s my turn now. I’m just dying to know what 
you mean by calling her Lady Hepburne. You don’t 
mean to say ” 

She was married to Sir Louis Hepburne a year 
ago last December,” said Florence, quietly. 

To Sir Louis Hepburne? That grand cousin 
of the Macallans, with all that lot of money? ” 

Yes, he is a cousin of the Macallans.” 

Well, I never! ” ejaculated Cissy, sinking on to 
her heels in the excess of her astonishment. What 
tremendous luck! The small-pox can’t have left any 
marks, anyway. Sir Louis Hepburne! Her second 
haul was a better one by long chalks than her first. 
I rather wonder the Macallans never mentioned it in 


232 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


tlieir letters; but perhaps they weren’t exactly proud 
of the match. My eye, what a rise ! And from such 
a start! You know that her mother was an actress, 
don’t you? ” 

An actress? ” 

This was a fresh bewilderment. Florence had 
only known that Miss Farthingall was the daughter 
of a distinguished officer, and that her widowed mother 
had lived in London. She had thought of her always 
as having been a highly respectable, but stern-prin- 
cipled old lady, whose heart had been well-nigh broken 
by that early slur on her daughter’s name, whose 
life even had possibly been cut short by this sorrow. 
Corrie had gone into no details while speaking of her 
mother, but it was in this way only that her figure 
fitted into the narrative, which had had so fatal an 
effect upon Florence’s imagination. And now an- 
other blow had been dealt to the picture. As she 
sat vaguely listening to the apergu of the Farthingall 
family, which Cissy Carter was pouring into her ears, 
Florence felt that, one after another, all her tlieories 
were being upset. 

I ask you whether she isn’t just in luck! ” con- 
cluded Cissy, triumphantly. Mother, just listen 
to what Fve been hearing about Miss Farthing- 
all! ” And she veered round towards the other 
group. 

FTot now, please, not now!” said Florence, 
quickly; and in a sudden fit of fear she caught the 
other by the sleeve. Mrs. Kipon is his sister, you 
know, and she mightn’t like to hear — all this story, 
just in this way.” 

Fortunately, Mrs. Carter, talking at the top of her 


THE CARTERS. 


233 


very robust voice, had not noted the equally robust 
interruption. 

Cissy opened her eyes. What story would she 
not like to hear? Do you mean that they don’t know 
about the swindling business? I dare say she left 
out that part when she told her story. I’m just burst- 
ing to tell mother the news, but I’ll wait till you’re 
gone, if you like. By-the-by, is she in London? I’d 
like to have a look at her in her new shape. She 
wasn’t nearly such a bad lot, now that I come to think 
of it.” 

She’s coming up the day after to-morrow, I be- 
lieve.” 

Cissy made a face. Too late for me ! I’ll be 
far on the briny by that time. But you might give 
her my love; there’s no harm in being on good terms 
with Lady Ilepburne.” 

The door was scarcely yet well closed behind the 
visitors, when already Cissy had shouted at her mother 
the pith of the news just received, whereupon the 
elderly tom-boy shouted back her incredulity and as- 
tonishment at the younger one, after which there fol- 
lowed a dialogue of such volubility and vigour that 
any one passing down the passage would have taken 
the room to be occupied, not by two, but by at least 
a round half-dozen of people. Either because of the 
over-great robustness of their lungs, or from the fear 
of being interrupted in their speech, both Mrs. and 
Miss Carter had asquired the habit of pitching their 
voices in that tone which is generally only used in 
addressing the deaf. 

To think of my having had a governess who 
has turned into a baronet’s wife ! ” exclaimed Cissy, 


234 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


ecstatically, when the first excitement had been 
weathered. 

Itdl be something to talk about at Melbourne,” 
remarked Mrs. Carter, as she once more attacked the 
packing. If there are any more Waxes alive they’ll 
not be slow to make a show of the relationship now.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


MR. WAX. 

During the remainder of the drive, Florence 
somewhat astonished Mrs. Ripon by her sudden taci- 
turnity. She had seemed to enjoy the idea of the 
park, but although all London apparently had turned 
out to-day and the drive was in all its glory, nothing 
seemed especially to attract her attention; and Mrs. 
Ripon, having spoken to her twice without getting an 
answer, concluded within herself that the girl was 
tired, and promptly took her home. 

At the moment of parting, Florence seemed sud- 
denly to wake up. 

Is it quite certain that your brother and his wife 
are coming to town the day after to-morrow?^’ she 
asked abruptly. 

That is what is settled; but if you wish it I can 
let you know when they come.’’ 

Yes, please do,” said Florence, with an eagerness 
which sent Mrs. Ripon away puzzled. 

The two days that followed included a ball, two 
dinner-parties, and a dozen or so of calls, but although 
bodily present at these functions, there was a certain 
indifference about Florence’s manner, and a certain 
vagueness in her glance, which seemed to imply that 
16 235 


236 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


the spirit was absent. Her thoughts had got into 
hopeless disorder, and, during these days, she was 
waiting for something which would help her to range 
them once more, but that could not be until the Hep- 
burnes were in London. She only gave them one 
night after their arrival. Her impatience would 
brook no further delay. At about eleven o’clock in 
the morning her card was taken up to Lady Llepburne, 
and the answer came back that her ladyship was not 
yet visible. There was nothing for it but to come 
again in the afternoon. To wait another night was 
out of the question. 

This time her ladyship was not only visible, but was 
radiantly dispensing tea to some half-dozen visitors, in 
a ravishing combination of lace and washing-silk. This 
was her first whole day in London, and all the rapture 
of entering on this new phase of her new existence was 
written broadly in her dancing eyes and round about 
her smiling lips. It was the pinnacle of bliss which 
she was beginning to touch, and each one of the visit- 
ors present lifted her an inch higher towards it. There 
was a very old gentleman there with white eyebrows 
and a snub-nose which struck your attention unduly, 
and somehow looked incongruous and out of place, 
perhaps because we are more accustomed to see old 
noses point downwards than upwards; and there was 
also a very young man who chiefiy conveyed the im- 
pression of being most beautifully washed, not merely 
clean in the ordinary, everyday way in which every 
decent Englishman is clean, but ostentatiously, almost 
aggressively so, his broad, boyish countenance seeming 
to shine with the vigour of past scrubbings, each 
separate yellow hair to be still damp from the morning 


MR. WAX. 


237 


ablutions, while about his whole youthful person there 
hovered the faint and not disagreeable odour of soap 
and water. Then there was a man with a grin, whose 
eyes disappeared when he smiled — and he smiled at 
almost everything that was said — while his teeth be- 
came abruptly disclosed, and a woman with half a 
flower-garden on her head, and one or two other people 
too unremarkable to note. Edith Hepburne was there 
too, heavily assisting her sister-in-law in the dispen- 
sing of the tea, and followed closely wherever she 
moved by the well-washed young man, Mr. Euckton 
by name, as Florence subsequently learnt. 

This was almost as bad as not flnding Lady Hep- 
burne at home, she reflected in dismay. 

But I donT care ! she added to herself with 
innate doggedness, Vl\ outstay them all.’’ 

But it was not so easily done. During the half- 
hour that followed, a couple more men dropped in, 
the water in the silver kettle was renewed, and the 
moment she longed for, yet dreaded, seemed further 
off than ever. Tongues were moving all around her, 
but Florence was still too much of a provincial to have 
caught the proper tone of conversation, perhaps also 
possessed too little aptitude for the task, yet, though 
she felt decidedly out of it, she sat on patiently, won- 
dering a little at the address with which Lady Hep- 
burne kept the ball agoing, and waiting for the op- 
portunity which she knew would not escape her, while 
more than one curious glance was thrown towards the 
silent, grey-eyed girl whose strangely concentrated ex- 
pression seemed so entirely out of keeping with her 
surroundings. 

It was a relief when the old gentleman with the 


238 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


snub-nose looked at his watch and hurriedly rose. His 
movement seemed to rouse some others to the memory 
of further engagements. At the end of another 
quarter of an hour, besides herself, there were only 
the lady with the flowery hat and the well-washed 
young man remaining. She could see that Lady 
Ilepburne was beginning to grow restless, and once 
or twice she had caught her hostess’s eyes upon 
herself, as though astonished at seeing her still 
there. Probably she too had an engagement waiting 
for her. 

Never mind, it must just wait,” thought Flor- 
ence, grimly. 

At last the miniature flower-garden sailed out by 
the door, and Corrie rose with a sigh of relief. At 
so unmistakable a hint, Mr. Ruckton blushed guiltily 
and grouped for his hat. The interest of his conver- 
sation with Edith Hepburne had evidently made him 
oblivious to his surroundings. 

And you?” said Corrie, as the door closed be- 
hind the second-last visitor, and she turned with one 
of her charmingly impertinent smiles towards Flor- 
ence — a smile which said quite plainly — 

Are you going to spend the night here? ” 
Florence had not yet moved from her place. Her 
eyes followed Edith Hepburne, who was moving to- 
wards a further door, intent, apparently, on effacing 
herself, after her usual fashion. 

I am going too, as soon as I have given you a 
message I have for you.” 

Can’t you give it to me to-morrow? There is a 
frock upstairs waiting to be tried on. I told you, 
didn’t I, that we are going to Lady Langbury’s ball 


MR. WAX. 


239 


to-night? — and such a frock! Imagine a sort of pale 

green froth all covered with ’’ 

Florence’s eyes came back from the distant door. 
Edith was gone. 

I can’t give it to you to-morrow. I have 
waited long enough; it must be now. I have seen 
your old pupil, Cissy Carter, and she asked me to give 
you her love.” 

Is that all? Charmed to get it of course, but I 
can’t see where the hurry comes in.” 

But that is not all. Cissy Carter told me some- 
thing else, and I came here to ask if it is true.” 

She drew a deep breath, and fixed her grey eyes 
full on Lady Hepburne. As Corrie met the gaze, 
a vague alarm crossed her mind. At last her atten- 
tion was struck by the other’s manner. Evidently 
something more was coming, but what could it be? 
Until now she had been standing, as though to mark 
more plainly that the interview was only a passing 
one. Now she sat down, and asked more quietly, 
while carefully watching Florence — 

Well, what other message did she give you? ” 

It was not a message; it was a story she told me. 
She says that you were married in Australia, and left 
a widow soon afterwards! ” 

It seemed to Florence that Lady Hepburne’s com- 
plexion changed a little; but, nevertheless, after a just 
perceptible pause, she burst out laughing, perhaps a 
trifle too loudly. 

Married in Australia ! Why, that sounds like a 
fairy-tale almost ! Where on earth has Cissy got hold 
of this cock-and-bull story? And do you mean to say 
you believe her? ” 


240 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Married to a man called Wax/’ went on Flor- 
ence, unmoved, who was a clerk in a Melbourne 
bank, and who was killed within the same year by a 
railway accident.” 

Lady Ilepburne was still laughing, but not from 
the bottom of her heart, as any keen observer could 
have plainly seen. There are moments when a show 
of merriment is an excellent method for gaining time, 
and while Corrie was pretending to be shaken by hil- 
arity, she was in reality rapidly reviewing the situa- 
tion, and asking herself what tack she had better take. 
This turn of events was unexpected. She had not even 
supposed that the Carters had ever traced her, after 
the parting in the harbour-town; yet Florence’s words 
convinced her that they had done so successfully. It 
was a blow of a kind, but all her life she had been ac- 
customed to act in emergencies. While Florence 
spoke, she was already weighing the pros and cons 
both of denial and confession, wondering whether 
there was still time to retreat, or whether, now she 
knew so much, it would not be less risky to let her 
know all. 

Do you deny the story, or do you not? That 
is what I want to know,” asked Florence, in a much 
drier, harder voice than her usual one. ‘‘ Don’t for- 
get that I can easily get the Carters’ address, and write 
to them for more information, — if I want to.” 

Corrie’s resolution was already taken. 

I do not deny it,” she said, growing suddenly 
grave, and she turned her face openly to Florence. 

What Cissy Carter says is true. I loas married to 
a man called Wax, and I did conceal the fact; but, 
before you condemn me, listen to my story.” 


MR. WAX. 


241 


Then, after a stage pause, as Florence, a little 
taken aback by the frankness of the avowal, sat there 
rigid and silent, she began her narrative. 

It had been on her dismissal from the Melbourne 
hospital that she had found her fellow-passenger, 
Philip Wax, waiting for her on the threshold, as it 
were. Stranded in a strange land, heartlessly aban- 
doned by her employers, her situation was so desperate 
at the time that she had been forced to keep herself 
from starvation by sewing on shirt-buttons by the 
dozen for a firm of linen-drapers. Many small real- 
istic details of those days were artistically thrown in, 
all well calculated to enhance the picture of pathetic 
misery, and nearly all true, for the Melbourne episode 
had in point of fact been one of the most trying ones 
of her career. She had no money either to pay her 
return passage, or to go on to Sydney. Then it was 
that Wax renewed the attack begun already on board 
the steamer. He was well-dressed, well-mannered, 
and- also the possessor of a pair of magnificent black 
eyes, although Corrie omitted to touch upon this point; 
and while importuning her for her love, promised 
her a secure and easy existence. To listen to him was 
at least imprudent, but, despite her genius for cal- 
culation, the seeds of imprudence were in her consti- 
tution. 

Was it a great wonder that I gave way at 
last?^^ asked Lady Hepburne, clasping her small 
hands as though in an unconscious prayer for forgive- 
ness, while her blue eyes hung pleadingly on Flor- 
ence’s face. There was another image in my heart, 
but I saw no chance of ever meeting the living man 
again, and, besides, I was starving — not in a figurative 


242 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


sense, but really and literally starving — and oh, you 
happy ones of the earth, you do not know how hunger 
hurts, how it persuades ! I believed that Philip was a 
good man and that he loved me, and in my despair, I 
yielded at last. Very soon I found out what a mis- 
take I had made. Disappointment followed upon 
disappointment, and ended in disgrace. Those few 
months were a short hell, and I tell you frankly that 

when, after the accident at N , they brought me 

the news that my husband was among the killed, I 
knelt down and prayed for the first time since many 
months — it was a prayer of thanksgiving. Only two 
months earlier he had defrauded the bank he was em- 
ployed in, and at that very moment the police were 
on his track. In this way, at least, the worst of the 
shame was spared to both him and me. Perhaps you 
can imagine a little of what I suffered through it all, 
and perhaps it will help you to judge me more leni- 
ently.’’ 

She paused, with her eyes still on Florence’s face. 
It was the first time since the days of their earliest 
acquaintance that she had spoken in this gently sub- 
missive, almost deferential tone. The exultant, self- 
confident Lady Ilepburne had disappeared for the mo- 
ment; it seemed to be the ill-used little schoolmistress 
who was speaking. Exactly in this same tone had 
that first, so pathetic narrative been given, but never 
again could it move the hearer as it had moved her 
then. Probably some of the story was true, for 
Florence knew by this time that Corrie was far too 
clever ever to invent entirely, but even tlie true parts 
would be told from her point of view, as Florence also 
knew — to her cost. 


MR. WAX. 


243 


Then yon were a widow when you came home 
to England?’^ she coldly inquired. 

Corrie, her face buried in her hands, made a sign 
of assent. 

And you were a widow when you told me all 
that story of your immovable fidelity to Sir Louis? 
Her upper lip twitched scornfully as she spoke. 

Let me explain; you don’t understand 

And if you were a widow,” Florence pursued 
mercilessly, ^Svhy did you . call yourself Miss Far- 
thingall? ” 

Can you not guess? After what had been, can 
you imagine any honest woman still wishing to hear 
the name of that man? I did not feel strong enough 
to carry that stigma about with me, and so, when at 
length I had saved money enough to return to my be- 
loved country ” (it was, of course, obviously super- 
fiuous to mention here the name of the elderly manu- 
facturer who had played such a part in quickening 
her sense of home-sickness), I gladly returned to my 
maiden name. It was easy enough for me, since no 
one in England knew of my marriage. It had been so 
hurried, and the disillusionment had come so quickly, 
that it remained secret even from my mother. Do 
you really think it was a crime to deceive the world 
in such a case? ” 

It may not have been a crime to deceive the 
world, but it was a crime to deceive him and me.” 

There was no deception,” said Oorrie, with eager 
volubility, not in the real sense of the word. All 
that I told you was literally true. It really was Louis 
who was my hero. The moment of weakness when 
I gave way to Philip’s wooing, and those few miser- 


244 : 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


able months I lived with him, could not really alter 
that fact. My whole marriage was but an accident, 
an episode. Nothing but sheer hunger could have 
driven me to that seeming infidelity. Just consider a 

little what my position was 

Yes, yes,’^ said Florence, impatiently; I can 
understand your having married the man, but I can- 
not understand your having dared to conceal the fact 
from your second husband; or, perhaps, you told him 
the truth before he married you? she asked quickly, 
fixing a keenly questioning glance on Lady Hep- 
burne’s face. 

Corrie hesitated for one moment. A little later 
on she saw that what she ought to have done was to 
fall in immediately with this idea, but at the time 
she somehow overlooked her opportunity; perhaps it 
was that the directness in the gaze of those so stub- 
bornly honest, transparently pure grey eyes actually 
succeeded in confusing her a little, though it was so 
long since she had experienced the sensation that she 
scarcely recognized it. Once having hesitated, there 
was, of course, no repairing the mistake. 

Even to him I could not make up my mind to 
confide that I had been the wife of a swindler,’’ she 
gently replied. I was not acting wrongly towards 
Louis, since I really loved him, and had loved him 
even in the moment when I married Philip. I could 

see no object in telling him ” 

But you will tell him now, immediately,” said 
Florence, in the tone of one who has the right to com- 
mand obedience here. I don’t care whether there 
is any object in it or not, but it cannot be right that a 
husband should be so completely ignorant of his wife’s 


MR. WAX. 


245 


antecedents. Do yon promise to tell him the whole 
truth to-day? 

Corrie moved uneasily on her chair. 

What good could that possibly do — now? 

Do you promise? Please make up your mind. 
Por if you do not tell him, it may be that I shall feel 
it my duty to tell him myself. It is monstrous that 
he should not know ! 

Corrie’s eyes first opened wide and then narrowed 
again, until only a thin line of blue was visible be- 
tween the lids. 

^^You?^^ she said; and, for the first time since 
the beginning of the interview, a touch of the old im- 
pertinence rang in her tone. And do you really 
feel sure enough of yourself to enter into such delicate 
explanations with Louis? Are you not afraid of the ex- 
citement it might bring with it ? 

Florence, though deadly pale, found strength to 
return the mocking gaze without fiinching, but the 
words would not come immediately. In the bottom 
of her frightened heart she felt that what Corrie said 
was true; she was not sure enough of herself to risk 
the scene that would be inevitable. 

Meanwhile Lady Hepburne, marking the effect 
produced, had rapidly changed her tone. 

I confess that you are right,’’ she said, with all 
her former gentleness, and softly laying her finger- 
tips upon Florence’s cold, unresponsive hand, and I 
confess that I am to blame. He ought to know, and 
he shall know in time — he really shall; but only be 
lenient to my cowardice, and let me choose my own 
moment! Here, in town, there is so little quiet. Let 
me wait until we are at home again; and, above all. 


246 


MISS PEOVIDENCE. 


let it be from me alone that lie hears the unhappy 
story, otherwise, how could I expect him to forgive 
me? You will promise, will you not, not to let a word 
escape you for the present? I ask it of you by the 
love you have borne him, for, think only how much 
greater would be the shock to him if he hears the 
truth from any lips but my own. You see, I throw 
myself entirely on your mercy. You will not be too 
hard upon me, will you? You who are so brave and 
strong! 

Thus she pleaded on in that soft voice of hers, 
which could ring so sharply when she chose; and 
Florence, sitting there, pale and rigid, listened un- 
willingly, struggling with herself the while. 

The discovery she had made chilled her to the 
very heart. Up to that moment her bitter disap- 
pointment at the result of Louis’s marriage had been 
tempered by the thought that at any rate it had been 
his duty to marry this woman; now this theory had 
fallen to the ground with a crash. The ill-used girl, 
with the broken heart, which no one but Louis could 
mend again, confessed to a husband whom she had 
found it more convenient to conceal. All the ro- 
mance was gone from the situation, as well as all the 
sense of justice. The sacrifice which both she and 
Louis had made appeared now in quite a different 
light; almost in that of an absurdity. And besides 
the galling sense of ridicule, there was the horror at a 
duplicity so directly contrary to every instinct of her 
straightforward and somewhat uncompromising na- 
ture. Could it be right that Louis should continue 
to be deceived by this arch-actress? — for she dis- 
trusted the woman too thoroughly to put the slightest 


MR. WAX. 


247 


belief in that talk of future confession — and yet, how 
take upon herself the task of enlightening him? And 
could this enlightenment help bringing about a 
further estrangement between husband and wife, the 
demolishing of the last possibility of their being able 
to live together, at least without outward scandal? 
Who was she to interfere between wedded people? 
She must have been mad to conceive such a thought. 

Yes, I will promise not to speak,’’ said Florence, 
abruptly, overcome by a sudden sense of her own 
weakness. I will leave it to your conscience.” 

She rose from her chair, feeling that it would be 
unbearable to stay a moment longer. 

Already Corrie’s arms were round her neck, while 
childishly fervent thanks were being poured into her 
ear. 

God bless you ! I knew that you were good 
and generous. I will tell him myself; only leave it 
to me! ” 

At the same moment her eyes fell on the rococo 
clock on the mantelpiece, and she almost shrieked. 

A quarter to seven! Merciful heavens! can we 
have been talking so long? And that dress to try on 
before dinner! Won’t you stay and see me in it, by- 
the-by? ” 

No, thank you,” said Florence, warily; I can- 
not stay.” 

As she went out by one door, Corrie flitted out 
by the other, once more all smiles and joyful antici- 
pation. She had had a fright, undoubtedly, for in 
the bottom of her heart she was afraid of her husband. 
But that was over now, and already her elastic spirits 
were recovering from the shock. Florence had given 


248 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


the required promise, and she was to he counted on as 
on a rock — this Corrie knew instinctively — and as for 
the Carters, it was a bore, of course, their having 
found out, but luckily they had left the country, and 
very likely would never turn up again — her naturally 
sanguine temperament almost took it for granted that 
they never would — and other chances of discovery 
were too remote to be taken into consideration. And, 
after all, even if the worst came to the worst, there 
couldn’t be anything worse than a bad scene, since — 
the fact of her having been a widow instead of a maid 
when he led her to the altar, couldn’t authorize Louis 
to unmarry her. And meanwhile, there was a pale- 
green gown lying upstairs on the bed. 

So it was with a song on her lips that Corrie re- 
gained her room. It was not upon her that the in- 
terview had left its shadow, it was on Florence, who 
at that moment was slowly descending the stairs, in a 
yet deeper perturbation of spirit than when she had 
mounted them two hours ago. 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 


GENTILLE BERGERE. 

It had been an agitating summer for Edith Hep- 
burne, by far the most agitating that had yet come 
to her peaceful and somewhat sleepy existence. Very 
early in the season it had become clear that Mr. Euck- 
ton’s attentions were serious, and a little before the 
rush from town he had spoken, with the result that 
Edith came back to Stonefield floating upon an ocean 
of placid bliss, and engaged to be married within three 
months. Little by little, however, something had 
come to ruffle the perfection of her content, and, oddly 
enough j it was Willy’s own advent which had been 
the signal for destroying her peace. The flrst few 
days were, indeed, all that she had expected, but be- 
fore a week had passed, she began to feel uneasy about 
she knew not what, something' which at flrst she did 
not quite grasp, and which, having grasped, she did 
not like to acknowledge even to herself. 

Hitherto Edith’s feelings towards her brother’s 
wife had been a mixture of dazzled admiration and 
of uncomprehending awe for a creature so entirely 
opposite to herself at every point. Within the last 
month a shade of timid disapproval had got mixed 
with this sentiment, for Corrie, returning home, 
249 


250 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


flushed with triumphs and drunk with London, had 
lost no time in turning Stonefleld into a very revel- 
house of pleasure, Ailing it from floor to attics with a 
succession of the very gayest people she had been able 
to pick up in town, and daily devising new plans for 
their entertainment. The grim old castle, silent for 
so long, had assuredly never before heard so much 
laughter as now echoed along its corridors; never 
had its broad staircase been swept by so many silk and 
velvet trains, unless it were in the days of hawking 
and hunting. The mediaBval relic had become a 
noisily fashionable country-house, where smart 
young women knocked off the ashes of their cigarettes 
against the edges of some historical piece of stone carv- 
ing, and where the chappies ’’ of the season lounged 
in the desecrated moat, making eyes ’’ the while at 
their fair-haired hostess. 

It was all rather startling to Edith’s conservative 
ideas, but it would have all mattered little if only 
Corrie had let Willy alone. 

Looking back now at the origin of her present 
trouble, Edith flxed upon a certain moment on the 
very morrow of Willy’s arrival at Stonefleld. They 
had been strolling blissfully in the park, and AVilly, 
in an access of ardour, had swung himself on to a tree- 
branch, to gather a bunch of rowan-berries which she 
had admired. Corrie joined them at that moment. 

What a useful sort of fiance to have!” she 
laughed, as she approvingly watched the manipula- 
tions of the youthful flgure among the branches. 

He climbs well enough to fetch you a star, if you 
wanted it.” 

Even at the moment Edith vaguely noticed the ap- 


GENTILLE BERGfeRE. 


251 


proval in the eyes, and was vaguely disturbed by it, 
and it was only later on that she understood the 
reason. Willy himself had probably noticed nothing, 
being far too much concerned about the state of his 
hands, usually so spotless, which he rushed ofl to 
wash the moment he again reached the ground. 

Yes, it was from that day that this apprehension 
had begun. That Corrie should have been suddenly 
struck by Willy’s good looks appeared to Edith only 
too natural, but of course she had no right to show 
what she thought, and thus perplex the poor boy, and 
possibly give him a false impression. There was no 
doubt that he was changed; but what could be ex- 
pected of him when so finished an adept in feminine 
arts as Corrie amused herself by throwing him favours 
which could mean nothing, of course, but which were 
yet only too well calculated to turn a youthful head. 

And of course she is much prettier than I am,” 
sighed poor Edith, as she rose to look at herself critic- 
ally in the glass, for it was in the solitude of her bed- 
room that these refiections were taking place, one 
October afternoon, and oh, ever so much cleverer 
and more amusing! I would almost rather not see 
him at all than see him near her; but I suppose there 
is no chance of his going away until these theatricals 
are over.” 

The theatricals had been Corrie’s last fancy. Hav- 
ing exhausted every other available form of excite- 
ment, and the autumn evenings beginning to lengthen, 
she had hit upon this idea. It had always been the 
dream of her life to go on the stage, as she frankly de- 
clared, and since Fate had been cruel enough to debar 
her from her real vocation, she would at least indulge 

ir 


252 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


in tliis little sip at the cup of Thalia. And in truth, 
despite all the delights which riches had already 
brought her, it was only from the moment that the 
reheai-sals began that Corrie felt herself entirely in 
her element, and therefore perfectly and entirely 
happy. 

But it was exactly the rehearsals which had ren- 
dered Edith’s fears acute. It was bad enough to 
have Willy going messages for Corrie, and dangling 
after her at odd moments, which he ought by rights 
to have devoted to his betrothed, but it was far, far 
worse to see him acting a rococo shepherd (and a pre- 
ciously awkward one, too) to her rococo shepherdess, 
and, in the critical scene of the piece, pursuing her 
across the stage, in the mock endeavour to snatch a 
kiss. That Corrie should have put the Gentille 
Bergere on the repertoire was perfectly comprehen- 
sible even to Edith; probably she wanted to see her- 
self in powder, and indeed no more suitable represen- 
tative of an eighteenth-century herder of lambs could 
well be imagined; but why need she have selected 
Willy to personate the lover, when there were at least 
half a dozen other men in the house, all better quali- 
fied for the role than Willy, whose appearance had very 
little of the rococo about it, and Avhom even Edith’s in- 
fatuation could not credit with the smallest gift for 
acting? Edith’s own fears gave the answer to the 
question. The honest stupid girl Avas heartbroken, 
but not really astonished. She had never been able 
to understand what it was that had moved Willy to 
select her; and now it seemed so natural that any one 
else should be preferred to her poor humble self. But 
that it should just be Corrie! 


GENTILLE BERGERE. 


253 


Did Louis really see nothing? Why did he not 
interfere? It was true that he kept aloof from his 
guests to a degree that was barely polite, taking the 
business of the estate as a plea for constant absences. 
It was, therefore, possible that much might have es- 
caped him; but still, to be as blind as this 

She was still deep in her thoughts when there 
came a knock at the door. It was the summons to 
rehearsal, her moment of torture, as she knew well. 

She lingered before obeying, knowing that she 
had no part in the first piece on the list, and hoping 
that the critical scene in the Gentille Berg ere would 
be over before she reached the spot. 

And it was just over, as she perceived on opening 
the door of the drawing-room, which served as ama- 
teur play-house, though something in the expression 
of the assembled spectators told her that the perform- 
ance had to-day not run quite on normal lines. The 
unusual hilarity on the faces around her changed 
rather suddenly into forced gravity, and it appeared to 
her that her own entrance had been the signal for this 
modification of mood. The dull apprehension within 
her took fresh growth. 

With beating heart she slipped into a back place. 

Can you tell me why everybody was laughing 
so just now? she asked, presently, in a half -whisper, 
when the performance had been resumed. 

Her neighbour, a fresh arrival, with a youthful 
grin, a single eyeglass which would not sit in its place, 
and about as much brains as would go to furnish a 
new-born calf, was himself still twisting his lean frame 
in silent convulsions at the excellency of the past joke. 
He now pulled himself forcibly together, and whis- 


254 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


pered back shakily and with the corners of his mouth 
still twitching — 

Awfully good fun, you know; never would 
have thought it of Ruckton. Didn't look as if he had 
so much in him. Pity you missed it. Would have 
made you laugh awfully." 

But you haven't told me what it was." 

You know the scene when the shepherd runs 
after the shepherdess and tries to kiss her, don't you? 
Well, the joke is that to-day he almost succeeded — 
ha, ha! In fact, my impression is that he quite suc- 
ceeded, though I was a little too far off to be quite 
sure, and though, of course. Lady Hepburne denies it. 
Anyway, it was a close shave, that it was — hi, hi, hi! 
But, by Jove! " he added, catching himself up with 
a gasp as helmet Edith's horrified eyes, and the recol- 
lection of the engagement stirred somewhere within 
his inner consciousness, I forgot that this mightn't 
amuse you; and there was no harm done, you know, 
even if I did see right. All in the heat of the acting, 
you know — all in the heat of the acting." 

Edith said nothing, and stared blankly at the 
stage. It seemed to her that Willy's boyish face was 
shining in a way which soap and water alone could 
never have made it shine, and that Corrie had never 
looked so fascinating, nor yet so triumphant as to- 
day. She had feared her defeat before, now she was 
sure of it. 

To-morrow at the same hour a dress rehearsal," 
announced Lady Hepburne at the close of the per- 
formance. Let every one look to their clothes. 
By-the-by, Willy, do you know how to powder your 
hair, or shall I have to do it for you? " 


GENTILLE BERG^RE. 


255 


These were the last words that fell on Edith’s ears 
aSj with a choking sensation in her throat, she slunk 
from the room, while the coquettishly impertinent 
glance with which the question was accompanied 
seemed to pursue her out into the passage. 

An hour later Sir Louis, returning in the dusk 
from a solitary tramp with his gun, stumbled upon 
his sister in the furthest corner of the shrubbery, alone 
and in tears, and stopped short in amazement beside 
the bench on which she was apparently sobbing her 
heart out. 

Edith ! Can this be you, or do I not see 
aright? ” 

It was the first time that he had ever seen his . 
younger sister in anything but her usual tranquilly 
submissive and outwardly . quite unemotional mood. 
It had never even occurred to him that she could shed 
tears at the rate at which she was now actually shed- 
ding them before his eyes. 

What reason can you have for grieving? ” he 
asked wonderingly. I thought that at least all your 
wishes had been fulfilled.” 

Edith looked up with swollen eyes and heaving 
breast. Until this moment she had had no thought 
of taking any active steps in her own cause. Recog- 
nizing the peril, she had immediately given herself 
up for lost, without the idea of striking even a blow 
in self-defence. It was only now that, seeing her 
brother before her, something like rebellion moved in 
the depths of her meek spirit, for although her per- 
sonal humility belonged to the abject order, it is well- 
known that under sufficient provocation even a worm 
will turn. Why should she not appeal to her brother? 


256 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


If it was anybody’s business besides her own it was 
bis. 

It is about AVilly/’ she sobbed incoherently — 
about Willy and Corrie. They are making me so 
— so wretched.” 

AVilly and Corrie?” repeated Sir Louis, in evi- 
dent surprise. I don’t quite understand you, 
Edith.” 

Anybody else would understand,” she said, with 
a passing flash of spirit. You only need to look 
about you in order to see what is going on.” 

What is it that is going on? ” He put the- ques- 
tion with a sudden sternness of tone, and as he spoke 
he deliberately placed his gun against the end of the 
bench, and sat down beside his sister, as though pre- 
pared for an explanation. Whatever you have to 
say to me, Edith, tell it me now; but be sure you 
do not let either your feelings or your imagina- 
tion run away with you. I want only the plain 
truth.” 

And then, with many hesitations and catchings 
of the breath, Edith told her poor little tale, confess- 
ing the terror which was devouring her — the terror 
of having lost Willy’s love, and to a woman who 
could have no use for it. That this woman happened 
to be her brother’s wife added of course a good deal 
to the gravity of the situation, although in her present 
state of mental anguish this could be but a secondary 
consideration. Nevertheless, there came a moment 
when, although she could not see her brother’s face 
in the thickly falling dusk, it occurred to her to say, 
almost deprecatingly — 

She means no harm, I suppose, but Willy takes 


GENTILLE BEEGEIiE. 


257 


everything so seriously, and she is so tremendously 
pretty/^ 

, Sir Louis made no reply. He had listened care- 
fully to her first words, but long before she had done 
speaking, his thoughts were taking their own course. 
Not that he disbelieved her — he believed her entirely, 
and was not even greatly surprised. Now that' his 
attention was directed to the matter, he could even re- 
call sundry small circumstances, barely marked at the 
time, which seemed to throw more light upon the 
situation. As he sat there with folded arms in the 
dark shrubbery, gnawing fiercely at his moustache, it 
was with himself that he was chiefiy provoked. Quite 
clearly he saw now that his system of leaving to his 
wife unbounded freedom of action, in return for im- 
munity from her society, was imperfect. To indulge 
her in all her wildest fancies was doubtless a con- 
venient way of making up for not being able to love 
her, but it should not be carried too far. It had been 
part of his system to studiously avoid watching her, 
and this, then, was the result. 

He was so deep in his thoughts that Edith, pausing 
at last for some sort of answer, thought that nothing 
was ever coming. Not that she expected much, 
nor had ever really hoped that Louis could do any- 
thing to help her, but she yearned for at least a sign 
of brotherly sympathy. 

Have you nothing to say, Louis?’’ she timidly 
inquired. 

He roused himself, as though from sleep, and, 
rising hastily, stretched out his hand for his gun. 

I am going to see about it,” he said, and made 
a step as though to leave her, but in a moment turned 


258 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


back again. You have an invitation from Lady 
Marston, have you not?^^ he asked unexpectedly. 

The best thing you can do is to wire back a ^ Yes ’ 
instead of the ^ 'No ^ you meant to send and to start to- 
morrow morning.^’ 

You want to send me away? she gasped. 

And with Willy in the house! 

Leave Willy to me. Do as I tell you and trust 
to me. AVill you trust to me, Edith? And he laid 
his hand for a moment on her disordered hair. And 
look here/’ he added, as her face disappeared once 
more behind her handkerchief. This thing will all 
come right if only you can break yourself of your 
mania for self-depreciation. Willy is a little idiot — 
saving your presence ; but if you want him back again, 
you can have him. J ust see if he doesn’t come crawl- 
ing back on his knees the moment that other influences 
are removed.” 

AYith the last words his voice hardened once more, 
and, turning rapidly, he disappeared in the direction 
of the house, leaving Edith still crying on the bench. 

It was to his wife’s room that Sir Louis mounted 
straightway. She would probably be dressing for 
dinner by this time, but that could not signify; there 
must be no delay. 

Corrie, sitting at her dressing-table, half drowned 
in the folds of a muslin peignoir j and keeping her 
eyes tight shut, in order to avoid the violet powder 
with which her French maid was delicately operating 
upon her hair, was startled by the loud knock and the 
abrupt entry which followed before there had been 
time to give a reply. She was still more aston- 
ished when, on opening her eyes, she saw her husband 


GENTILLE BERGERE. 


259 


standing before her in a stained shooting-suit and 
with marks of gunpowder upon his hands, at sight of 
which her first instinctive movement was to draw 
the folds of her snowy peignoir more closely around 
her. 

Send away your maid/’ he said in a low 

tone. 

She obeyed in sheer surprise, and then looked at 
him again. He had been biting his moustache, and 
his brows were drawn rather deep over his eyes, both 
symptoms of annoyance with him, Can he have 
found out about Philip? ” was her first thought, and 
she braced herself for a scene. 

I have come to tell you that Edith leaves to- 
morrow morning,” Sir Louis began, as soon as the 
maid had closed the door behind her. She has de- 
cided to accept Lady Marston’s invitation.” 

^HLas she, indeed?” said Corrie, with heartfelt 
relief, and wondering why the announcement should 
be made so solemnly. 

And, of course, since she goes, Willy will leave 
us too; there is no object in his staying here after her 
departure.” 

A shade of annoyance crossed Corrie’s face. 

Willy? But he can’t go, at any rate, until after 
the theatricals.” 

Indeed, he can. He will go to-morrow, im- 
mediately after Edith.” 

Has he said so? ” 

I say so, and he can’t very well see the matter 
from a different point of view to mine.” 

Do you mean that you ? ” 

I mean that I will make him understand perfect- 


260 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


ly at what place he is wanted, and at what place he is 
not.’’ 

Corrie, her artificially white head emerging from 
the clouds of her white toilet-mantle, sat dumfoimded. 
Out of sheer annoyance she came very near to crying 
at that moment. 

But, Louis, how unreasonable! I can’t do with- 
out him for the play.” 

You will have to do without him for the play, 
as well as for real life.” 

What do you mean? ” she asked, quaking a little 
under his eyes. 

You know very well what I mean. I do not 
advise you to urge me to plainer language, and I do 
not advise you to try my patience too far. 1 am 
neither a parson nor a street-preacher, and I can bear 
a good deal, so long as you keep within bounds; but I 
think it is time to tell you that I could never forgive 
a stain on my name. Of course, I do not ask you to 
abstain from ^ platonic friendships,’ or ^ harmless 
flirtations,’ or whatever the fashionable designation is, 
but I do ask you to use a little discretion in tlie choice 
of your victims and in especial to have a little re- 
gard for my relations. There are enough young 
fools at your disposal without tormenting that poor 
child.” 

But, Louis, I assure you ” 

I have asked for no assurances. I only came 
here to tell you that both Edith and Willy will leave 
Stonefield to-morrow, and that in future you will be 
so good as to leave the boy alone. I do not know how 
far his head is turned by this time, but you had better 
remember that, even at the risk of being considered 


GENTILLE BERGERE. 


261 


strait-laced, I shall allow no communication whatever 
between him and you. Have I made myself clear? ’’ 

Quite/’ murmured Corrie, cowed for almost the 
first time in her life. 

Up to now, even under considerable provocation, 
Louis had always addressed his wife with studious 
politeness. This, too, had been part of his system, 
but to-day the thought that his sister’s happiness was 
at stake had swept aside every other consideration, and 
imparted to his tone something that was so harsh as to 
be almost brutal. 

You are very hard upon me, Louis,” added 
Corrie, plaintively, fumbling the while at the buttons 
of her toilet-mantle. She did not quite dare to make 
another appeal in words, although Willy’s departure, 
just at this moment, provoked her excessively; but 
there exist other ways of appealing to stern husbands 
— ways known to every daughter of Eve; and as she 
now, with a deft and rapid gesture, divested herself of 
her lace wrapper, Corrie was acting more from instinct 
than from thought. Her innate sense of the dramatic 
told her that the right moment had come. As the 
delicate fabric sank to the floor, she rose from her 
chair, a picture unveiled, as dainty a poudre shepherd- 
ess as ever poet’s fancy caused to trip under the boughs 
of blossoming trees, with short, hoop-skirts, revealing 
tiny, satin-shod feet, deep-cut, rose-trimmed bodice, 
and a bare and dazzling throat. 

I suppose I may as well take off this dress,” she 
said, with a quasi-tragic sigh, and yet beginning to 
smile in spite of herself at the sight of the reflection in 
the glass. It was only a private rehearsal, of course, 
but there need be no rehearsals, since, if Willy goes, it 


262 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


will be all up with the play.’’ And, while pretending 
to hang her head, she glanced at him slyly and keenly, 
to see the effect upon him. 

The effect was indeed there, plainly to be read 
upon his* face, but it was quite different from what 
she had looked for. The coldness in the eyes fixed 
upon her struck her like a breath of chill air. 

Is this the costume in which you intended to 
act before our guests? ” he asked, after a moment of 
silence. 

Of course it is; ” and she attempted to pout. 

Have you anything to say about it? ” 

Sir Louis’s eyes passed once more over the figure 
before him, as though the better to take in all its points 
— the impudently short skirts, the unnecessarily 
transparent sleeves, the audaciously low bodice, and, 
above it, the eager face, slyly intent upon his expres- 
sion — a little fuller in outline than it had been a year 
ago, a little more highly coloured, and a little less 
delicate in surface, but still, in truth, fair enough — 
fair and shameless; and, as he looked, there was added 
to the coldness in his eyes something that came near to 
disgust. 

I have this to say about it, that you certainly 
have not my leave to appear in this ridiculous rig-out. 
I have no idea of being made a laughing-stock for the 
country. If you still want to act a shepherdess, you 
will have to modify this dress considerably.” 

lie turned with a disagreeable laugh, and left 
her standing before her toilet-table, dumb with aston- 
ishment. 

And this is the woman I am bound to for life ! ” 
was Louis’s thought as he closed the door behind him ; 


GENTILLE BERGERE. 


263 


and for one desperate moment he thought of the gun 
he had left in the lobby downstairs, and tried to re- 
member whether it was still loaded. Would not a 
bullet be a fit ending to this dreary comedy, -out of 
which there seemed no escape for all the best years 
of his life? Never before had the utter unsuitability 
of their two natures, the utter impossibility of finding 
a common basis of thought on any single point, been 
borne in more forcibly upon him; and never before 
had escape from this well-nigh unbearable position 
appeared more distant and more hopeless. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 

It was a few days after tlie scene last recorded 
that Florence, having gone out to dine at a neigh- 
bour’s house, was agreeably surprised by catching 
sight of Mrs. Ripon’s face among those of the assem- 
bled guests. She had indeed heard of her recent ar- 
rival at Stonefield, but she had not been able to make 
up her mind to call upon her there, just as she had 
found excuses for keeping aloof from all the noisy 
festivities, which for weeks past had been dazzling as 
well as slightly scandalizing the neighbourhood. 
People must make remarks if they liked, but since the 
explanation by the riverside, now a year ago — to meet 
Louis in his own house had come to be something be- 
yond her powers of self-control. All the more did she 
bless the chance of to-day. It was to the half-hour 
after dinner that she looked for the opportunity of at 
least a few words with her friend. But it seemed 
as though this hope were to be baffled, for scarcely 
had she crossed the threshold of the drawing-room 
than a lean arm was slipped within hers, and she felt 
herself being resolutely led towards the very furthest 
and obscurest corner of the apartment. It took her a 
moment to perceive that it was the Tiger-Lily who was 
264 


AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 


265 


thus forcibly abducting her, and evidently with a 
fixed purpose, as was clearly legible upon her withered 
features. 

^^You have had the last news from Stonefield, I 
suppose?’’ began Miss Ward, having installed both 
herself and Florence upon a low seat, well screened 
from the rest of the room by a pyramid of ferns. 

The Tiger-Lily, be it here remarked, had been 
among the very few who had refused to grovel ” — as 
she termed it — to the reigning Lady Hepburne. 
Crushing though the blow of the engagement had 
been, it had not sufficed to make her bow her stiff 
neck. Unbending as her prototype, she had remained 
true to her bellicose attitude. The fact of Sir Louis 
having married a schoolmistress could not, in her 
opinion, alter the fact that the schoolmistress had no 
right to get married by him. 

JSTo, I have heard no news,” said Florence, 
startled; has anything happened? ” 

That depends upon what you call happening. 
I call it a good deal when a husband has to send a 
young man out of the house, because of his wife’s flirt- 
ing with him so outrageously that his own sister’s en- 
gagement is in danger of being broken off four weeks 
before the wedding-day. I always said that young 
person would come to no good.” 

Miss Ward snorted audibly, evidently revelling 
in the sound of her own words. Within the same 
minute she was pouring into Florence’s ears the last 
of the many versions concerning Edith ILepburne’s 
abrupt departure which were flying about the country. 

Florence listened unwillingly, yet was vaguely 
conscious of a certain painful curiosity. They were 


266 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


not the first remarks of the sort which she had lately 
heard passed upon Louis’s wife^ but they were the 
most unveiled. 

Why do you tell me this? ” she asked wearily. 

Is it my business? ” 

Miss Ward’s bare hand covered her own for a 
moment, while the thin neck swayed ungracefully 
towards her, as a stiff stalk is moved by the wind. 

Yes, it is your business,” she said in a whisper 
which could almost be described as explosive. You 
know very well that if you had stuck to your engage- 
ment with that man it never would have come to this.” 

Florence gazed in surprise at the small lustre- 
less eyes nailed angrily, almost vindictively, on her 
face. She could not know that for two years past the 
Tiger-Lily had been harbouring a grudge against her, 
never having been able to forgive her for leaving the 
road to Stonefield open to the detested schoolmistress. 

If you had married him, all this scandal would 
have been spared the country. Any one can see that 
he is wretched ” 

A shadow fell upon them that was not the shadow 
of the ferns. Florence, glancing quickly up, rose 
with an exclamation on her lips, for Mrs. liipon was 
standing close beside them. 

Our hostess wishes to consult you about your 
recipe for preserving plums,” said Mrs. Eipon; but 
though she spoke so quietly, Florence knew that she 
had overheard the last words. 

Miss Ward, who was almost as keen about pre- 
serves as about keeping young persons in their proper 
places, broke into a sour smile, and glided away in the 
given direction. 


AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 


267 


Mrs. Eipon and Florence were standing face to 
face behind the screen of ferns, alone to all intents 
and purposes. 

She — she didn’t really mean it,” began Flor- 
ence, without reflection. 

Mrs. Ripon smiled kindly and a little sadly. 

I think she did, and, what is more, she is right. 
A pretty state of affairs it is that I have found at Stone- 
fleld! Ah, child, child, you have much to answer 
for! ” And, trusting to the ferns, she laid one of her 
large, well-shaped hands upon Florence’s shoulder, 
and looked deep into the girl’s eyes. 

Despite their intimacy, which had grown apace 
in London, this was the first time that the subject 
which lay near both their hearts had been so directly 
alluded to between them. 

For a long minute they looked at each other, then 
Mrs. Ripon gave a quick little shake to Florence’s 
shoulder, and let it go. 

Come, child,” she said, forcibly changing her 
tone, whatever you do, don’t look so tragic! There’s 
never been any use crying over spilt milk. You al- 
most look as though you’d been after something of the 
sort. I’m not pleased with your face. What you re- 
require is shaking up. Will you come and see me to- 
morrow? ” 

At Stonefield? Oh no; you mustn’t ask that. 
I can’t go there! ” 

If we’re to have anything like a talk, you really 
must, for the horses are all in Corrie’s service — or 
those of her guests,” she added, with a just perceptibly 
contemptuous inflection of voice. It is only by 
chance that I can capture a pair occasionally. If 
18 


268 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


you come to-morrow, you needn’t see anybody but me, 
for she is quite absorbed in a new batch of fashion- 
ables. And, by-the-by, Louis is going up to town 
early to-morrow,” she added, with apparent indiffer- 
ence. 

Very well, I will come,” said Florence, after 
a moment’s hesitation. The inducement of a long, 
quiet forenoon with Louis’s sister was too great to be 
resisted. She felt as though within the last minute 
only their friendship had become unshakably estab- 
lished. Henceforth, though the vital subject might 
never again be directly alluded to between them, she 
would know that they understood each other entirely 
and perfectly. 

Her heavy heart was heavier than usual as she 
laid her head on the pillow that night. Yes, she had 
much to answer for — everybody said the same thing: 
the Tiger-Lily, and Mrs. Eipon, and Louis himself, 
and her own heart, which cried out the accusation 
loudest of all. On this evening she was visited by 
that same passing feeling of despair, that same sense 
of the hopelessness of an escape, which had come to 
Sir Louis after the last explanation with his wife. It 
is in moments like this that we say : It cannot be 
borne ! ” Knowing all the time that it must be borne, 
and perfectly aware that when we have fretted our 
fill we shall do the only thing that is to be done, name- 
ly, stoop once more, and take up our burden. 

The business which Sir Louis had in town made 
it necessary for him to take an early train, and thus 
it was that on the morning after Mrs. Ripon’s dinner 
at the Black’s he came down from his room before his 
usual hour, meaning to snatch a solitary breakfast. 


AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 


269 


and be off before the dining-room was invaded by his 
wif e^s guests. In the big entrance-hall a freshly piled 
up fire was crackling boisterously in the grate, sending 
out a glow that was extremely welcome on this chilly 
October morning. It was scarcely broad daylight yet, 
though it was past eight o^clock, and white shreds of 
mist hung about the gothic windows like ghosts, and 
seemed to be peering in longingly at the warmth and 
comfort within. Everything was exactly as it was 
wont to be on days of this sort; nothing was there to 
tell him that he was close to a turning-point in his life. 
Even the basket-table stood on its usual spot on the 
rug, and on it the same silver salver that was there 
every morning, laden with the early post. How often 
had he stopped beside it to turn over its contents, and 
why should any difference be made by his doing so 
to-day? 

There were two business letters for himself, and 
five missives, that were certainly not business letters, 
for Corrie, delicate missives which have the stamp of 
society upon their cream-laid texture, and in the 
balmy odour they exhaled. The only exception was 
a long, bluish envelope, on which Sir Louis happened 
to catch sight of the mark of the dressmaker’s firm 
which supplied most of Corrie’s evening gowns. He 
tossed the lot on to the mantelpiece, and applied him- 
self to his own correspondence. As he unfolded the 
first sheet the hall door was briskly opened, and Corrie, 
ravishingly clad in grey tweed, entered with brilliant 
cheeks, and limp, golden hair, uncurled by the damp 
rawness of the ihorning. Since her rise in the world 
late sleeping was her general rule, but in consequence 
of a new-born craze for byking ” lessons, which it 


270 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


was found more convenient to take before everybody 
was down, the habit had been temporarily suspended. 

Ah, that’s something like a fire! ” she cried glee- 
fully, running with extended hands towards the 
hearth. It makes one forget the beastly wet out- 
side! ” 

She laughed light-heartedly. The week that had 
passed, and the byking,” had quite sufficed to con- 
sole her for the conti^etemps which her husband’s ab- 
surd rigour had brought about; and how should it 
not, seeing that the young Marquis of Maulesley, who 
had volunteered to become her teacher in the new 
art, was at least twice as good-looking as Willy, and 
ten times as amusing? 

Anything for me? ” she queried gaily, her eye 
falling on the silver tray. 

Sir Louis handed her the parcel of letters in si- 
lence. A big easy-chair stood invitingly near. With 
a little sigh of comfort Corrie sank into its hospitable 
arms, and stretched her small feet towards the glow. 

A minute or two passed in silence, broken only 
by the crackling of wood, and the rustling of note- 
paper. All at once Sir Louis, leaning with one elbow 
on the broad oaken mantelpiece, and deep in his own 
correspondence, heard something like a smothered cry, 
and looked up startled. 

Corrie, the bright colour all faded from her face, 
her eyes opened wider than was quite natural, was sit- 
ting upright in the deep chair, staring fixedly at the 
letter in her hand. It was a letter written closely on 
thin, foreign-looking paper. 

What is it? ” he asked in astonishment, for he 
had never seen her unnerved before. 


AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 


271 


What is it?^^ he repeated after a moment, for 
she did not seem to have heard. This time he had 
spoken more sharply, and with a half-convulsive move- 
ment she pulled herself together. 

Nothing, nothing at all,’^ she faltered, meeting 
his eyes with her own startled gaze. Only some 
bad news about a friend.’’ 

As she spoke he saw that she was trying to hide 
the letter she held under the pile on her knees. He 
looked again at her perturbed face, and quite suddenly 
a suspicion shot across his mind. 

From whom is that letter? ” he asked quickly. 

She stared at him almost wildly for a moment. 
The tweed cap had got pushed to one side, and this, 
together with the damp locks hanging in disorder 
upon her pale forehead, gave her a whimsically rakish, 
and at the same time boyish, air, as of some youth who 
has been drinking; 

It is from my dressmaker; don’t you see the en- 
velope? ” 

He glanced at the bluish envelope which had fallen 
to the floor. 

Then there was an enclosure,” he said after a 
moment’s pause. That sheet you have in your hand 
does not match the envelope. There was certainly an 
enclosure. Who was it from? ” 

From a friend,” she faltered, as though against 
her will; somebody I used to know.” 

Is it from Willy Euckton? ” 

No, oh no! I swear to you that it is not.” 

Fie flxed her hard with his eyes for another mo- 
ment. 

You are lying,” he said contemptuously. The 


272 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


letter is from Willy. You are in correspondence with 
him.’’ 

But Louis ” 

Show it me ! ” he interrupted, putting out his 

hand. 

She made a movement as though to cover the 
scattered papers with her two arms; it looked like an 
impulse of terror. 

I cannot — it is a secret — somebody else’s secret; 
it would be a breach of confidence. If you would 
only believe me-: ” 

Sir Louis stepped up close to the chair on which 
his wife sat cowering. 

I do not believe you,” he said quickly, looking 
down upon her with coldly resolute eyes; and I 
will make you give me that letter. I hope you will 
not oblige me to show you that I am stronger than 
you? ” 

She stared up at him, still frightfully pale, and 
with something like desperation in her eyes. 

Will it satisfy you if I show you the signa- 
ture?” she asked, after a breathless pause. I tell 
you that the letter is confidential; but if you see 
the signature, you will believe that it is not from 
Willy? ” 

He put out his hand without replying. 

Fumbling among the papers she pulled out the 
sheet, and with trembling fingers folded it so that 
only the signature was visible. As she held it to- 
wards him, she was watching him with a look of strain 
which sat strangely upon her usually so careless 
features. It was the same thin, closely written sheet 
which he had seen in her hand a minute ago. 


AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 


273 


He glanced at the name, and handed the letter 
back again. 

I see I was mistaken/’ he said coldly. 

Corrie grasped the sheet as though it had been a 
prize, and rose unsteadily to her feet. 

May I go now?” she asked, with a quite new 
humility. 

Sir Louis made a movement which was as much 
as to say, Pray don’t let me detain you!” And 
gathering up her papers in her two hands, she fled 
towards the staircase, as though from some pursuing 
danger, in her haste almost running against her sister- 
in-law, at that moment entering the hall. 

Mrs. Eipon looked after her, and then at Louis’s 
face. 

Something is wrong?” she said, meeting her 
brother’s gaze. I hope you are not going to start 
^ scenes,’ Louis; that has never done any good in the 
world,” and she smiled a valiant but anxious smile. 
Though Louis had never actually told her any of his 
secrets, she yet knew them well enough. 

Oh, nothing is more wrong than usual,” was the 
impatient answer. Only I made a bit of a fool of 
myself by insisting on seeing a letter which I im- 
agined was from Willy.” 

Well? ” 

Well, and it wasn’t from Willy. I saw the 
signature.” 

Mrs. Eipon drew nearer the fire. 

Who was it from then? Judging from her face, 
she hadn’t been hearing from a mere indifferent ac- 
quaintance. You say you saw the name? ” _ ^ 

It wasn’t one I know.” 


27i 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Can’t you remember it? ” 

Sir Louis reflected for a moment. He was just 
about to say that he couldn’t when suddenly across 
the blankness of his mind he saw the name written 
as he had seen it upon the thin sheet, having fastened 
itself there by one of those tricks of memory which it 
is so hard to analyze. 

Wax! ” he said, aloud, as though he were read- 
ing it off a paper. Philip Wax — yes, that was it. 
Odd that it should have stuck in my mind; but that’s 
because the name itself is odd. Wax has the property 
of sticking, to be sure. Sounds like somebody out of 
the ^ Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ doesn’t he? ” 

And it never occurred to you to ask Corrie who 
he 'was? ” 

‘‘ No, it didn’t. All I cared to know was whether 
the letter was from Willy or not; and that not for 
my sake,” he added, with a dreary laugh, but only 
for Edith’s.” 

How terribly like a man! But I dare say it is 
of no consequence,” went on Mrs. Ripon, quickly, 
glancing at his overclouded face. 

In her heart of hearts she thought that it might 
be of great consequence, for she distrusted her broth- 
er’s wife far more deeply than did Louis himself, and 
— putting AVilly quite apart — thought her capable 
of entertaining any number of clandestine, and at least 
doubtful, correspondences behind her husband’s back; 
but what good could it do to excite his suspicions 
further? None at all, she decided, and accordingly 
changed the subject by calling his attention to the 
clock, and to the small margin now left for the catch- 
ing of his train. Her own thoughts, however, re- 


AN UNWELCOME LETTER. 


275 


mained fastened on the incident, and the feminine 
curiosity of which even strong-minded women have 
their share, lingered during breakfast, and beyond it, 
round the question as to who the man with the queer 
name could be, the reception of whose letter was capa- 
ble of throwing the self-possessed Corrie into so 
strange a state of emotion. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A MORNING CALL. 

It was one of those damp, still, October days, 
when nothing seems to be stirring except the falling 
leaves and dropping berries. As early in the fore- 
noon' — earlier than would have been permissible for a 
conventional visit — Florence and her pony-carriage 
wended their way through the half-stripped, but still 
gorgeous lanes, the familiar landscape was veiled be- 
fore her eyes by a hovering cloud of grey which hung 
in mid-air, blurring the outlines of trees and bushes, 
extinguishing the distant flash of the broadly winding 
river, and toning down the red and yellow of the 
leaves close at hand. Shreds of mist hung upon the 
hedges, like flakes of wool caught on the thorns, and 
even the last remaining brambles, which the fall of 
the leaves had laid bare in their deepest hiding-places, 
dripped with the dampness of the day. At one spot 
only a whitish blur in the universal grey seemed to 
betray that somewhere or other the sun might be shin- 
ing, though here all was dark and dull, a sunshine as 
difficult to believe in as the happiness of others wlien 
our own life is joyless. Scarcely an acceptable morn- 
ing for a drive, but Florence, with her thoughts flxcd 
on the hours in store for her, scarcely noticed the raw- 
27G 


A MOKNING CALL. 


277 


ness of the morning. As she reached the turn of the 
road which on a clearer morning would have revealed 
to her the hills close at hand, she distinctly felt her 
spirits stirred by the prospect of the approaching meet- 
ing. It was at this very spot that she had on a certain 
fateful day — now more than two years ago — caught 
her first glimpse of a well-remembered black figure, 
destined to play so weighty a part in her life. Since 
then she had never been able to pass this way with- 
out a sharp pang at her heart. Nothing had warned 
her then, and nothing warned her now, of the things 
that were coming, as no inner voice told her that 
this day was destined to undo what the other had be- 
gun. 

The footman who opened the door had evidently 
received his instructions, for he met her with the in- 
formation that Mrs. Eipon was in her own room and at 
leisure. She was following him down the long pas- 
sage which traversed the castle from end to end, when 
a door close at hand was opened, and Lady Hepburne 
came out. At sight of Florence, she drew back, as 
though hoping she had not been remarked, but meet- 
ing the other’s eyes, hesitated and then came forward, 
having evidently decided that it was too late to remain 
invisible. 

I am going to see Mrs. Eipon,” said Florence, 
hurriedly, standing still perforce, at least as much 
annoyed by the meeting as apparently Corrie appeared 
to be. I know you are too busy with your guests 
to attend to me.” 

Corrie put out her hand, smiling mechanically. 

Yes, thanks, I am very busy,” she murmured, 
without any of her usual animation. 


2T8 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


Florence just touched the hand held out, glancing 
into her hostesses face as she did so. 

What is the matter with you?’’ she asked, 
quickly. Are you ill? ” 

She had suddenly perceived that Corrie’s face was 
almost colourless, while her blue eyes had in them a 
startled look, like that of a person who has* not yet 
recovered from some great fright. The pale, golden 
locks straying over her forehead added a touch of 
wildness to her appearance. It almost looked as 
though she had forgotten to do her hair. 

At Florence’s question, she flushed suddenly. 

What makes you think that anything is the mat- 
ter? ” she asked, with a quite unusual sharpness of 
tone. I am not ill; I am only tired. It is those 
cycling lessons, I suppose. Don’t stare at me like that, 
please; and please let me pass. There are people 
waiting for me.” 

Florence coldly inclined her head, and passed on, 
lost in astonishment. She had seen the ex-Miss Far- 
thingall in many moods, but never in one like this, 
for her temper, as a rule, was perfect, and serious 
irritation a thing of which she seemed incapable. It 
must be something grave indeed which had upset her 
so entirely. 

Mrs. Ripon was alone and at leisure, exactly as 
the footman had announced, but, despite the warm 
welcome, the first five minutes made it clear to Flor- 
ence that her friend, though outwardly unoccupied, 
was not in one of her most conversational moods. Last 
night she had seemed to be looking forward to the 
forenoon en tete-a-tete, as much as Florence herself, 
but now that the moment had come, a certain pre- 


A MORNING CALL. 


279 


occupied air betrayed that her mind was not free. For 
about a quarter of an hour the talk flagged strangely. 
Mrs. Kipon, generally an excellent talker, ‘made lan- 
guid remarks about the season and the neighbour- 
hood, followed by long pauses between, during which 
her thoughts were evidently busy elsewhere. Flor- 
ence, with an odd sense of disappointment, was be- 
ginning to ask herself what was the matter with 
them both to-day, when Mrs. Eipon, emerging 
from one of her moments of reflection, remarked 
abruptly — 

There isn’t any one in the county called Wax, 
is there? ” 

A moment before Florence had risen from her 
chair, and was bending over a big jar fllled with red 
hips and black sloes and golden-brown bracken, — 
such an autumnal nosegay as can be picked along any 
hedgerow at this season. They were not arranged 
after her taste, and it had occurred to her to settle 
them differently, as a way of passing the time. At 
the sound of Mrs. Ripon’s question, she turned round 
suddenly. 

Wax? ” she repeated in a tone of sharp surprise. 

Yes; do you happen to know the name? I see 
you do,” she added quickly, as Florence stared back 
at her with startled eyes. Now tell me at once who 
> he is.” 

Why do you want to know? ” 

Mrs. Kipon looked at her doubtfully for a mo- 
ment. 

I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you,” she re- 
marked at last. After last night, I feel as if it 
would be useless trying to keep our secrets from each 


280 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


other. The fact is that this person is a correspondent 
of Corrie’s, and I want to find out what business he 
has to be so. I can’t make Louis happy, but I should 
like to save him from disgrace if I can.” 

A correspondent? What do you mean? ” 

I mean that she got a letter from him this morn- 
ing.” 

From a man called Wax? ” 

Just so. How slow of comprehension you are 
to-day, child! ” 

But that can’t be 1 ” said Florence, wildly. 

That was her first husband, and he is dead. She 
told me so herself.” 

Mrs. Eipon got up from her chair, understanding 
nothing as yet, but infected by the other’s excite- 
ment. 

First husband? Dead? You are talking mad- 
ness, child! In God’s name, calm yourself, and tell 
me what you mean.” 

But I promised not to speak!” said Florence, 
desperately. 

You must speak, if you know anything — and it 
is evident that you do. Having said so much, you 
must say more. Do you want to help to hush up what 
may be a crime? ” 

Florence stared back at her with wide eyes and 
working features, her two hands still full of the red 
and black berries with which she had been busy. 

It was to Louis that I promised not to speak,” 
she said after a moment of strained thought. Yes, 
I suppose I ought to tell you.” 

And in rapid sentences, rendered short and jerky 
by the excitement that shook her, she gave Mrs. Eipon 


A MORNING CALL. 


281 


the substance of the disclosures made to her by Corrie 
that June day in London. 

And she admitted positively that she had been 
married to this man? 

Positively. After the first moment, she did not 
even attempt to deny.’’ 

But then ” began Mrs. Kipon, and stopped 

short, as though frightened at her own thought. For 
a few moments the two w^omen stared into each other’s 
eyes without speaking. 

Suddenly Florence shook her head. 

It can’t be,” she said with an effort. There 
must be some mistake. She told me he had been 
killed in that accident.” 

Just then she remembered Corrie’s face as she had 
seen it that morning, and felt a fresh shock of doubt. 
Was this the explanation of that strange perturba- 
tion? 

There may be other people called Wax,” she 
said aloud; relations, perhaps. What was the 
Christian name?” she added sharply. Did Louis 
mention that? Not Philip? ” 

I believe it was Philip.” 

And again the two women looked at each other. 

It is plain that I must speak to Louis the mo- 
ment he gets back,” said Mrs. Ripon, after another 
long pause, speaking now in something more like her 
usual business-like tone. There is something here 
that requires clearing up, and we owe it to her, as well 
as to him, to dispel all mystery. What a bother he 
should have gone to town to-day! ” 

There was the sound of wheels on the gravel as she 
spoke. As though with the same thought in their 


282 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


minds, they both turned expectantly to the window, 
just in time to see Sir Louis spring from the dog-cart 
and enter the house. 

He has missed his train, after all,’’ remarked 
Mrs. Eipon quietly. I told him it would be so.” 

She kissed the girl quickly, and went out without 
another word, and Florence, flinging on to the table 
the berries, which she had still been holding without 
knowing it, snatched up her hat and jacket, and fled 
from the house she had entered but half an hour ago, 
confused and shaken, and understanding only that, 
whatever might now be coming, her place was not 
there. As she put on her gloves, she wondered to see 
some tiny blood drops on her palms; but it did not 
occur to her that they were the marks left by the 
thorny twigs which, during the last few minutes, she 
had been holding in so convulsive a clutch. 


CHAPTEE XXVI. 


AN EXIT. 

When, on the day of the great railway accident, 
the news of which had put half Melbourne into 
mourning, Philip Wax crawled with bruised hands 
and bleeding forehead from under the wreck of the 
carriage he had occupied, he had assuredly never im- 
agined that he was being preserved from death in 
order to live to be the husband of a baronet’s wife, for 
to this proud but paradoxical position he had now 
actually attained. In the very first moment, to say 
the truth, he was not entirely clear in his mind as to 
whether he really had been preserved or not — whether 
this lurid scene of mingled midnight-blackness, and 
redly-glowing torches — rendered hideous by every 
imaginable variety of groan, pitched in every imagina- 
ble key — did indeed belong to Mother Earth, or not 
rather to that deeply situated region beyoud the grave, 
in which — supposing, for argument’s sake, that it 
really existed — he might reasonably expect to find a 
place prepal^d for himself. Having, as his faculties 
cleared, decided in favour of the first of these sup- 
positions, his next step was to do what every one 
does under these circumstances, namely, to feel him- 
self all over. Actually, not a bone broken! Pools 
19 283 


284 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


of blood all around, severed limbs, rags of flesh spiked 
on splintered wood, yet his only injury a gash in the 
forehead, such a cut as might be got any day at 
cricket! What meant this heaving mass of clothing 
at the bottom of the embankment, on which a fitful 
ray of the torchlight now fell, with here a human arm 
protruding stiffly, and there a boot distinctly outlined 
— all the more appalling for not being quite motion- 
less. Were there actually bodies under those clothes? 
And this thing at his feet with a human shape, but 
without a face — could this be that chatty young man 
who had been in the middle of such a capital anecdote 
when the shock came? 

Theyfll never get them properly disentangled,’’ 
was Mr. Wax’s reflection, as he looked down on his 
mangled fellow-travellers; and at that moment he 
saw his chance as in a flash. It had been with the ob- 
ject of evading some unpleasantly sharp detectives 
that he had entered this very train; — how gain his 
end better than by causing himself to be reckoned 
among the victims of the catastrophe? 

Philip Wax, though more or less of a scoundrel, 
was quick of resolution and steady of nerves. It took 
him but a few minutes to change clothes with the 
faceless man beside him — a manipulation which, in 
the midst of the surrounding chaos, it was easy to 
effect unobserved — and it took him but another five 
minutes to slink away into the unbroken blackness 
that lay beyond the railway embankment. By day- 
light he was far from the scene of the disaster. After 
that, matters were considerably simplified by the con- 
tents of the chatty young man’s purse, which he had 
found in the trouser-pocket. With this aid he was 


AN EXIT. 


285 


able to gain a distant country town, which harboured 
him in safety for many months. Then followed a year 
or two of wanderings and of hand-to-mouth living, 
until at last his astute spirit told him that the term of 
his exile was reached. A less perfect swindler might 
have thought that there could be nothing more dan- 
gerous than a return to the spot where the fraud had 
been committed, but Mr. Wax had had some practice 
in these matters, and his instinct told him that Mel- 
bourne would be the only place where he would not be 
looked for, even supposing that he was being looked 
for at all; and, accordingly, to Melbourne he went. 
His calculations proved correct. Without having 
taken any further precautions than altering his name, 
and growing a beard, the ex-clerk lived ?v contented 
and unmolested life for close upon two years, under 
the very noses of the same officials who had once been 
so hot upon his scent. He had always been great at 
figures — as some of his employers found to their cost 
— and it was chiefiy by giving instructions in book- 
keeping to the youthful sons of mercantile houses — 
also by occasionally procuring them money-loans be- 
hind the paternal back — that he now succeeded in 
earning a relatively honest living. One of his pupils 
it was who had been the destined instrument from 
whose lips he had heard the report of his supposed 
widow^s re-marriage; for since their return from Eng- 
land in the June of this year, both Mrs. Carter and 
Cissy had been talking so loudly of their former gov- 
erness’s good fortune that in time it penetrated the en- 
tire circle of their acquaintance, to which, as Provi- 
dence would have it, this particular youth’s family 
happened to belong. 


286 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


A remark dropped had been enough to put Mr. 
"Wax on the track, and a few judicious inquiries ended 
by enlightening him fully, just as a little reflection 
pointed out to him the proper course to pursue under 
the circumstances. The idea of claiming his wife 
never even entered into his head — that would indeed 
be killing the goose with the golden eggs. Clearly 
there was only one sensible thing to do, namely, to 
reveal to her alone the fact of his existence, and by 
threatening to disclose himself, to frighten her into 
sending him money. From what he had seen of 
Corrie during their few months of married life, he 
saw no reason to suppose that she would not fall in 
with this proposal, and, if properly managed, the ar- 
rangement ought to enable him to live free from care 
to the natural term of his days. 

It was in accordance with this idea that Mr. Wax 
took an early passage for England, and, having made 
the requisite inquiries, had decided on making use of 
Lady Ilepburne’s London dressmaker as the vehicle of 
correspondence. His knowledge, both of the world and 
of dressmakers, told him that the request of forward- 
ing a letter would not be considered unusual, but not 
even his knowledge of the world could warn him of 
the unfortunate juncture at which the missive would 
reach Corrie’s hands. 

It was not till long after that Lady Hepburne’s 
guests knew exactly what it was that was going on 
around them. But, although weeks and weeks 
passed before the truth transpired, at the moment 
every one felt vaguely that “ something ” was in the 
air. On his return from the station. Sir Louis had 
been closeted with his sister for nearly half an hour’. 


AN EXIT. 


287 


after which some one had met him on the way to his 
wife’s room, looking more like his spook than him- 
self/’ as the lady in question put it. On the same 
afternoon it was announced that Lady Hepburne was 
too ill to leave her apartments, and within the next 
twelve hours the assembled guests had, in response 
to a polite hint, cleared off the premises. 

What had passed at that second interview no one 
but Sir Louis and Corrie ever knew in detail, nor by 
what means, whether threats or appeals, he had in- 
duced her to confess the truth and produce the sus- 
pected letter. It is more than likely that the hurry of 
events, and the still-all-too-fresh perturbation of her 
mind — for once in her life she was really nonplussed 
— had something to do with her surrender. Bigamy, 
indeed, had not figured in her intended programme — 
for she had honestly believed her scoundrel of a hus- 
band to be dead — but yet it is just conceivable that, 
if she had been given time to recover from the shock 
of the discovery and to arrange for herself some plan 
of action, she might — in consideration of what was at 
stake — have attempted to deny the past. The proba- 
bility is that she did not think the game safe enough 
to be worth playing. Be all this as it may, the fact 
remained that within an hour of his return from the 
station. Sir Louis was in full possession of all the points 
of the case. 

The position thus abruptly disclosed would have 
been well-nigh unbearable, even to the husband who 
up to this morning had been cursing his fetters, if it 
had not been for one thing, and that was Corrie’s own 
attitude in the matter. On that first day, indeed, she 
remained too deeply crushed even to attempt to lift 


288 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


lier head, but by next morning already she looked 
almost like her usual self. A single night’s rest had 
sufficed to steady her excellent nerves. Having, so to 
speak, taken the measure of the situation, her incura- 
bly elastic nature had once more begun to assert itself. 
A more sensitive, or, let us say, less practical woman, 
knowing what she now knew, would have flung every- 
thing from her, and rushed from the scene in a mix- 
ture of horror and shame. Hot so Corrie. The flrst 
unavoidable phase of perplexity being passed, she un- 
derstood that, by keeping her head, she might yet 
manage to save something from the wreck of her good 
fortunes. Neither horror nor shame came near her. 
She was desperately disappointed, of course, but she 
was not really angry with anybody, not even with her 
worthless husband, since, after all, it wasn’t his fault 
that he hadn’t been killed in the accident. Hot that 
anything would induce her to go back to him, as she 
announced from the flrst. 

And he wouldn’t thank me for it either,” she 
explained to Mrs. Kipon. From the moment I 
cease to be Lady Ilepburne he has no further use 
for me.” 

Her last interview with Sir Louis was the most 
friendly that had taken jflace since the days of their 
betrothal, and was marked, moreover, by a certain 
brisk, business-like air, which very successfully veiled 
the embarrassments of the situation. It was Corrie 
herself who had insisted on this interview. Sir 
Louis would have preferred to make the proposals he 
contemplated through his man of business, but Cor- 
rie declared that she meant to be her own man of busi- 


ness. 


AN EXIT. 


289 


Nobody ever looks after your interests as you 
do yourself/^ she observed, almost cheerfully to Sir 
Louis, in the course of their conference. Of course, 
youh^e not bound to do anything for me, but, of 
course, I know that you will do something,’’ she added, 
with an engaging smile. 

Naturally,” said Sir Louis, looking at her with 
a strange mixture of distaste and compassion. After 
all, the wretched position she was in was not all her 
own fault, and besides, it was impossible to help ad- 
miring her pluck under the circumstances. Alto- 
gether he had never before felt so leniently disposed 
towards her as now that he knew he was going to get 
rid of her for ever. 

It is — it is self-evident,” he stammered, far more 
ill at ease than she was, that having got used to a 
certain amount of comfort, you should not feel it pos- 
sible to return to ” 

To pauperism,” she finished readily. I thought 
your sense of justice would point that out to you.” 

As for the investment of the capital which I wish 

to settle on you ” 

But here she shook her head decisively. 

No capital, if you please; I have thought over 
the matter, and I know I shouldn’t be able to keep it 
safe from Philip. Besides, I’m not quite sure that 
I mightn’t do something foolish with it myself. Let 
it rather be an annuity — a pension, or whatever you 
like to call it,” she added, with just a touch of bitter- 
ness in her laugh. 

As you like,” hastily agreed Sir Louis, inwardly 
marvelling at the stuff of which some women are made. 

I had thought of three hundred pounds ” 


290 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


That’s what I have been spending lately on my 
frocks/’ broke in Corrie, with a deprecating smile. 

Four hundred, then, by all means.” 

Five hundred would be such a much rounder 
sum ” — and the smile grew more insinuating. You 
know that you would scarcely miss it.” 

Yes, yes — five hundred, or six hundred, if you 
like,” said Sir Louis, recklessly. He would almost 
have been ready to say six thousand if that could have 
brought about the end of the interview. 

At the last moment he took fright, for she had 
become suddenly thoughtful, looking at him with un- 
wonted earnestness. Surely she is not going to lapse 
into sentiment at the eleventh hour? ” he said to 
himself, apprehensively. But what Corrie said, on 
opening her lips, was — 

How about the jewels? ” 

Everything that is not family jewels you can of 
course keep.” 

Even the diamond reviere? ” 

Certainly.” 

She heaved a deep-felt sigh of relief. 

It was not until the carriage which was to take to 
the station the person still addressed by the footman 
as her ladyship ” — though known to himself as well 
as to herself to be plain Mrs. Wax — had disappeared 
from sight, that the oppression of the last few days 
began to lift from Sir Louis’s bewildered spirits. He 
could not have said .what instinct it was which sent 
him straight to his mother’s side, not to explain to her 
what had happened — she would not have understood 
him, had he tried — but to fondle her thin hand and 
gaze with yearning tenderness into the brown eyes. 


AN EXIT. 


291 


to whose mild depths there had lately been creep- 
ing back some of the restlessness of former days, a 
little of that old anxiety which seemed ever wait- 
ing, ever listening for something — perchance, for 
the first cry of the infant which was to bear into 
another generation the name of Hepburne, and 
whose gift she would not yet believe that Heaven had 
denied. 

Meanwhile, on the platform of the country-side 
station was being enacted the last scene of the drama, 
or comedy — whichever it ought rightfully to be called 
— in which he had been elected to play a prominent 
part. Scarcely had Corrie alighted than she found 
herself face to face with Florence Crossley, likewise 
in travelling-dress. 

At sight of her Florence fiushed scarlet and drew 
back. It had been in order to be out of the way of 
coming events that she had decided to pay a long-de- 
ferred visit in the neighbouring county — and now this 
meeting upset her carefully-arranged plans. But 
there was no escape. Last time it had been Corrie 
who had drawn back, this time, on the contrary, she 
came forward, holding out her hand and even faintly 
smiling. 

What a lucky chance! ’’ she said, dragging the 
girl into the entrance of the tiny waiting-room. I 
was just wondering how I should manage to say good- 
bye to you, and also to offer my congratulations,’^ she 
added, lower. 

What do you mean? ” faltered Florence. 

I mean that I’ve had my turn, and now you’re 
going to have yours.” 

Don’t speak like that — let me go!” said Flor- 


202 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


eiice, striving to free her arm from the clasp of those 
small, tenacious hands. 

Corrie gazed at her in genuine surprise. 

AVhy, what are you so put out about? Surely 
it’s I who ought to be put out, not you. Since I’m 
going away out of your life for ever, you might at 
least wish me good-bye.” 

Good-bye,” murmured Florence, with a pang of 
pity which brought a sudden softening of the voice. 
She felt unexpectedly compunctious, almost as though 
she had been striking a person who is down. I am 
sorry — very sorry for you,” she said earnestly. 

Whether you are or not, it’s nice of you to say 
it. Why should we part enemies? It wasn’t that I 
meant to do you any harm, you know, only that I 
meant to do myself good. I’ve failed, worse, luck,” 
she added, with the ghost of a sigh, and now 
I’m paying the penalty. Don’t think of me too 
hardly if you can, when once you are settled at Stone- 
field.” 

That can never be,” said Florence, witli flaming 
cheeks and darkening eyes. He is too angry with 
me.” 

Corrie gave a slight and peculiarly expressive 
twitch to her right shoulder. 

A man’s anger! And against a woman! Bless 
your heart, is that all you know about them? Of 
course, he will require a little time to discover his own 
■ mind, and a margin will also have to be left for the 
nine days’ wonder to cool down in; but if you’re not 
settled at Stonefield by this day two years, then my 
name isn’t Ilepburne — that is to say, Farthingall, no 
— what is my name, by-the-by? — I suppose I mean 


AN EXIT. 


293 


Wax — provided, of course, that you don’t take to play- 
ing providence again,” she added, with a quizzical 
and not unfriendly little side-glance. 

Florence tried to say something, but could not im- 
mediately speak. There followed a long silence. 

During the last few minutes a handful of travel- 
lers had been gathering to await the London train,» 
rustic travellers with battered straw hats and shawls 
drawn around their shoulders, whose appearance por- 
tended no danger of invasion of the first-class waiting- 
room. On the small platform a sort of miniature 
bustle was in growth. 

And you?” Florence managed at last to say. 

What are you going to do? I wonder you can bear 
it so well.” 

Do you? If there was any use in breaking down, 
you may be sure that I would do so; that’s my way 
of taking things. The game’s up, and there’s nothing 
for it but to begin over again. Don’t look startled; 
I don’t mean having two husbands again, but be- 
ginning to look cut for some other piece of good 
luck. Something generally turns up; as I always 
say, it all depends on keeping one’s eye§ open. 
Isn’t that my train? You’re not coming London 
way, are you? Then this is good-bye, indeed. I 
shall probably try America this time; it’s a big- 
ger field than England. I’m glad I’ve seen you, for 
I really liked you all the time, mind you; and re- 
member, please, that I don’t grudge you your good 
fortune.” 

And before Florence had realized what was com- 
ing, Corrie had bent towards her and implanted 
a quick little kiss on her hot cheek, to which, in 


294 


MISS PROVIDENCE. 


her surprise, she neither offered resistance nor re- 
sponse. 

In another few minutes she stood alone on the 
platform, looking after the London train, from some- 
where about the middle of which a white handker- 
chief w^as being waved out of the window of a first- 
class compartment, while a fair and ever diminishing 
head continued to nod a friendly farewell from out of 
the dim distance. And as she looked she wondered, 
without understanding. Grateful though she was to 
this woman for bearing her misfortunes so lightly, this 
very light-heartedness was a thing almost impossible 
for her to believe in. To such an earnest and almost 
over-fervent nature as hers it could not be given to 
grasp the mingled insouciance and optimism of that 
fair-haired adventuress with the lawyer’s head on the 
siren’s form, who, with the true spirit of her class, was 
setting her face hopefully towards another continent 
in search for fresh adventures — possibly of a fresh 
husband. Had she known of the six hundred a year 
which had been secured only this morning, as well as 
the riviere safely packed in the travelling-bag, the 
problem of Corrie’s fortitude might possibly have ap- 
peared to her easier of solution. As it was, she only 
wondered how, despising this woman as she did, she 
could yet not wholly hate her. 

As a turn on the line hid the vanishing train from 
view, Florence turned slowly back towards the rustic 
station-house. Instinctively her eyes sought the hill- 
line on the horizon, and in the same moment she be- 
came aware that, against her own better judgment, 
her heart had leapt up gladly. Could it be that the 
happiness which she had wilfully fiung aside was 


AN EXIT. 


295 


once more to be laid in her hand? That black mon- 
ster which she had just watched hurrying away 
out of sight on wings of smoke, was that, indeed, 
the past that was over and done with, and was it 
at the foot of those well-known hills that the future 
lay? 


THE END. 







1 









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